


All the Time in the World

by geethr75



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:10:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 29,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7883404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geethr75/pseuds/geethr75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a ghost appears in Gryffindor Tower one night, Harry has a task thrust upon him that he did not want... But the fate of more than the wizarding world hangs on his actions</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Could you be possibly feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"  
  
Harry stared at Dumbledore, aghast. Sorry for Voldemort? He most emphatically was not. The one he felt sorry for was the infant whom Merope had not lived for. The infant who had to grow up in a loveless environment because his mother cared more for her pain than his. Who knew, if things were different, how Tom Riddle might have turned out.  
  
He shook off his thoughts and said quickly. "No, but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother-"  
  
"Your mother had a choice, too," Dumbledore's tone was gentle. "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage."  
  
"I still feel sorry for the baby." Muttered Harry.  
  
Dumbledore's smile was entirely too understanding.  
  
As he climbed under his sheets that night, Harry wondered how Tom Riddle might have been had his mother not died. Merope might have been poor, but she was capable of great love. He felt certain of it. But she had chosen an end to her own pain rather than to fight for her infant son. Dumbledore had said he should not compare her with his own mother, but Harry could not help it. Lily Potter too had sacrificed her life, but she did it to save her own son. Merope on the other hand gave upon life to escape her own pain, condemning her son to a life of loneliness, which in turn turned him into the monster called Voldemort.  
  
A muffled sob came from near the window and Harry sat up, his heart hammering. Cautiously he peeped from behind the hangings. The dormitory was silent and empty. None of the others were awake. He let the hangings fall and settled himself on his pillows when he heard it again.  
  
It was unmistakably a sob and it seemed to be coming from the door. Harry got up cautiously, picked up his wand and moved to the door. The night was cold and goosebumps broke out on his bare arms. After a moment, Harry took his invisibility cloak as well. Covering himself with it, he moved to the door.  
  
He could hear the sobs clearly now. He looked towards Ron's bed, wondering if he should wake him. Then he shrugged. He could handle this. It just was someone crying. It could not be worse than all that he had faced till now.  
  
Gripping his wand hard, and making sure, his cloak has fully covered him, he cast a whispered "Lumos" before opening the door. The corridor leading to the dormitory was empty. But he could still hear the sobs. They seemed to be coming from the common room. Harry did not hesitate, but he was cautious. He made no noise as he moved towards the common room.  
  
Stealthily he climbed down the stairs and stared around in confusion. The common room was empty. Harry frowned. The sobs were gone too. All was quiet. Had he imagined the whole thing? He regretted not waking Ron.  
  
Then he heard it again. A sob, full of sorrow as if someone was crying their heart out. But he still could not see anyone. Was someone else in an invisibility cloak in the common room? Cautiously, he slipped off the cloak.  
  
"Hello? Is anyone there?" He whispered, not wanting to wake any of his mates.  
  
There was a ripple in the air before him and a figure appeared. Harry had seen enough ghosts since his first year in Hogwarts that he knew that the figure was a ghost. It appeared even less substantial than the ghosts at Hogwarts. And it was sobbing quite loudly now.  
  
"I'm sorry," the ghost whispered through sobs. "I did not mean to wake you. I could not help crying."  
  
But Harry was not listening. He was staring dumbfounded at the apparition before him. For, he had recognized it.  
  
The ghost of Merope Riddle sniffled as she looked at Harry with watery eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry sat down on one of the armchairs, feeling as if his legs won't support him. Merope looked much the same as she did while alive. She also looked thoroughly miserable. 

"Er... Why are you here?" He asked now.

"I came to see the wizard known as Dumbledore," said Merope, her fingers lacing and unlacing. "I want his help."

"Er... You're a ghost. What help can you want?" Harry cursed himself. He did not mean to be so insensitive. 

"I know I am dead," she whispered. "The help I require is not for me. I want him to help my son."

Harry leapt up. "Help Voldemort?" His voice was like a whiplash and Merope flinched.

Harry felt ashamed of himself, seeing that flinch. 

"Please," Merope whispered. "It is not his fault. I did it to him. You must help me! You must take me to Dumbledore!"

"What do you mean it is your fault?" Harry was feeling suddenly angry. "What did you do to make him a murderer? What did you do to turn him dark?"

He conveniently ignored the small voice in his mind that reminded him that he had thought just a few minutes before that had Merope chosen to live for her son, Voldemort might have turned out differently.

"I did nothing," she whispered. "Don't you understand? I did nothing for him! Not one thing! I left him in a muggle orphanage! I... I never thought how it would be for him.... I just left him...."

"You died." Said Harry. "I hardly think you had a choice."

She shook her head. "Magic prolongs our lives; if I had wanted to live, I might have, but I did not want to! I might have done better to have died before his birth! But I left him alone with a curse!"

"You," Harry began and stopped. "What curse?"

Merope gulped. "Please take me to Dumbledore. You cannot help me."

"I am not taking you anywhere till you explain what you meant. What curse?"

"I..." She gave a start. "I have to go. I can't stay!"

She vanished.

Harry sat, staring at the place where she had been. Had he dreamt the whole thing? He shook his head. He had better go back to bed. It was just past midnight. Perhaps in the morning, he might be able to make sense of what happened.

He headed back up towards the dormitory, putting his cloak back on almost absently. A noise from the stairs stopped him short.

Ron stepped into view, lit wand held aloft. He looked worried.

"Harry?" He whispered. "You there?"

Harry pulled off his cloak. "I'm here, Ron."

Ron sighed. "What were you doing here? I thought I heard you shouting. Thats what woke me. And when I went to see what's wrong, you were not in your bed!"

Harry shook his head. "I just had a weird experience. And even now I'm not certain if it was real or if I was hallucinating."

Ron looked scared. "Do you think," he swallowed. "I mean, is You-know-who sending you visions again?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. But I'll tell you all about it at breakfast. I don't want to explain it again to Hermione."

Ron nodded. "Let's head back to bed then."

Contrary to his own expectations, Harry fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

Both Ron and Hermione were astonished at what Harry told them.

"Blimey! You-know-who's mother wants Dumbledore to help him?" Ron shook his head. "Something's seriously wrong with her."

"It was her ghost, Ron," said Hermione. "And she probably don't have much of an idea about how evil he really is. But Harry," she pinned him with a piercing stare. "You need to tell Dumbledore about this."

"I know," said Harry. "But he's absent at the breakfast table. Haven't you noticed?"

Hermione frowned. "We need to find out where he is then. And when he's going to be back. What if she returns tonight? This could be important."

"I don't see how," said Ron. "She wants Dumbledore to help You-know-who! And we all know Dumbledore won't do it. So why worry about whether she comes back or not?"

"Ron!" Exclaimed Hermione. "What if she intends that Dumbledore should stop him? What if she knows how?"

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron snorted. "She's his mother! How can you believe that she would want Dumbledore to stop him?"

Personally, Harry agreed with Ron, but he knew that the workings of the female mind was a mystery which neither he nor Ron were too expert at solving. If Hermione felt Merope's request was not so straightforward as it seemed, it was wise to listen to her. 

"I need to tell Dumbledore," said he with sudden resolution. "He will be able to find out her real intentions."

Hermione nodded approvingly and Ron rolled his eyes. 

"And how are we going to find Dumbledore if he's not in the school?" Asked Ron. "Reckon McGonagall will tell us if we ask her?"

Harry frowned and then snapped his fingers. "I know! I will ask Dobby!"

"How's he to know where the Headmaster is?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"He might not know, but he will be able to find Dumbledore," said Harry. "House elf magic is beyond our comprehension."

Hermione pursed her lips but was silent. Harry was grateful for that. He did not think he was mistreating Dobby in anyway by asking him to find Dumbledore, but Hermione had such odd ideas regarding House elves.

"We have a free period in the morning," said Ron, scanning their time tables. "After that, it's Potions, then Transfiguration and then again a free period. If you're planning to talk to Dobby, you better do it now."

Harry nodded. "Let's wait till we're back in the common room."

But the common room was not empty when they got there. Seamus, Neville and Dean were all there. 

"Harry!" Seamus called. "Join us for a game of exploding snap? We're fleecing Neville!"

Neville looked too happy for a guy being fleeced, thought Harry.

"Later, Seamus," called Harry. "I have to finish some homework."

"Let's go to the dormitory," said Hermione. "And hope no one intrudes."

Dobby came immediately and was only too glad to do whatever Harry told him to do.

"I shall find Professor Dumbledore Harry Potter," said Dobby, beaming. "And I shall tell him Harry Potter wants him urgently."

"Very urgently," said Harry. 

Dobby nodded and vanished.

"Now what?" Asked Ron.

"Now we wait," replied Harry.


	4. Chapter 4

Dobby found Dumbledore soon and the Headmaster hurried back to the castle as soon as Dobby conveyed Harry's message. Harry was summoned to the Headmaster's office as soon as classes were over. Dumbledore listened to Harry's story without interrupting. There was silence for a few moments once Harry finished. Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked at Harry over the rim of his glasses. Then he sighed.

"This is quite unexpected, Harry,"

Harry grimaced. "Yes, sir. But do you know what she wants? I mean, she doesn't really expect us to help her, does she?"

"We cannot know what she really wants till I've talked to her." Dumbledore paused. "We don't even know if this is the shade of Merope Riddle or some minion of Voldemort."

"He," Harry cleared his throat. "He's not making me see this, is he?"

"I understand your worry," said Dumbledore. "And I promise you that this is not a hallucination. Whatever you saw, it was real. But whether it is who it appears to be is what we have to find out."

"If it is her," Harry muttered, "How is it that she appeared only now? Where was she all this time?"

"These are questions which even she might not be able to answer, Harry."

Harry nodded. "What do we do now?"

"Let us hope she makes an appearance tonight. I shall come to the Gryffindor common room tonight after all the students are gone to bed. If she makes an appearance, I will be able to talk to her. And to determine whether she is a malignant or benign entity."

"Sir?" Harry asked. "Can I also be there?"

"I think you should be there. This concerns you more closely than anyone else."

Harry smiled. He felt relieved. 

"And now," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I'm sure you are too eager to get back to Gryffindor Tower so you can all that happened to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. Off you go."

Harry grinned as he rose. "Bye, professor."

Ron and Hermione were relieved that Dumbledore would be there to face the unknown spectre. 

"We would need to ensure all the others are in bed before Dumbledore comes," said Hermione, worried.

"Relax, Hermione," groaned Ron. "He's not likely to come till they are all in bed. And it is not likely that the ghost of Merope or whoever it is will make an appearance till the common room is deserted."

A thought struck Harry. "But that need not be. She appeared yesterday even though I was there."

"Let's hope she won't appear before a roomful of people," said Hermione dubiously. "But how will Harry know when she will appear?"

"I will stay in the common room under my cloak," declared Harry. "And will remove it once everyone is in bed."

"I have a bad feeling about this whole thing," muttered Ron. "You be careful, mate."

"Dumbledore will be there, Ron," said Hermione. "Harry will be safe with him."

Harry nodded in agreement. He would be safe enough with Dumbledore.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry had dozed off when he heard a sound. He opened his eyes to see the tall form of Albus Dumbledore materialize inside the common room. He sat up.

"Sorry, Professor," he said in a whisper, "I think I fell asleep."

"Don't be sorry," said Dumbledore, beaming as he cast a non verbal spell. "There. Now we do not need to whisper."

Dumbledore sat in one of the armchairs near the fireplace. The embers had died down and the common room was cold. Dumbledore lifted his wand and flames were crackling in the fireplace. Harry felt the warmth seep into him as he pulled his chair closer to the fireplace.

It was Harry who saw her first. Merope Riddle stood just at the foot of the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory. She was not crying, but her face looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment. 

"Professor," he murmured. "She's here."

Dumbledore rose from the armchair to face her. 

"You wished to see me, I understand."

"You are Albus Dumbledore?" She asked, her voice a whisper.

Dumbledore inclined his head in a nod.

She came towards him, wringing her hands.

"You must help me! You must!"

"What is it that you require of me?"

"My... my son... my Tom.... You must help him! You must save him!"

"Madam," said Dumbledore. "You have my sympathies. I can understand how you might feel. But it is too late for your son. There is nothing in this world that can save him. And I for one, don't intend to try."

"Please.... You can't give up on him! Please!"

"You're mistaken," said Dumbledore tiredly, "I cannot save your son because he does not wish to be saved. He has walked too far down the dark path for him to ever come back to the light. If I were to try, it might cost more casualties which we can ill afford. I'm sorry."

"He... It was not always too late! Please... He was good once!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "From what I have seen of him, he never was good, Mrs. Riddle. But you are right that it was not always too late. There was a time when he might have been saved, remote as the chances were. But we cannot change the past."

"What if... What if it is possible?"

"What?" Harry burst out, unable to help himself. "What if what were possible?"

"Changing the past?" Whispered Merope. "What if it were possible for you to go back in time? Would you save my Tom then?"

"It is not possible," said Dumbledore with a finality that brooked no arguments. 

"It is for me," said Merope.

"How?" Asked Harry.

"We... Our family... We have an artefact.... I took it when I left home... I hid it.... It has the power..."

Dumbledore's eyes were sharp as he looked at her. 

"And what does this artefact look like?"

Merope made a gesture and an image appeared in the air. It had the shape of a sundial. The circle was formed of a snake with its tail inside its own mouth. The image of a lion head was seen in the background. Images of an eagle and a badger were the dials. Dumbledore drew a deep breath. 

"The Transtemporal! It does exist!" He breathed. "I thought it was only a legend!"

"What is it, sir?" Asked Harry.

"It is a time travelling device. Time turners were built in an attempt to replicate this. But none of them have as much power as this. Legends have it that this was made by the four founders of Hogwarts together. But no one has ever seen it. It was rumoured that Slytherin took it with him when he left the school for good. But no one ever believed that it actually existed."

"Then how did they make the time turners?"

"The first time turner was made by one of the earlier students of Hogwarts, Fabian Whitmore, whose notes claimed that he was attempting to replicate the time travelling device invented by the founders. However, after the ministry understood the dangers of time travel, Whitmore's notes were destroyed so that no one should be able to make another time turner. The ministry till last year held almost the entire stock of time turners in the wizarding world."

"But they are all destroyed now," said Harry, feeling a slight feeling of guilt.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, and it was a good thing too. Meddling in time is not a good thing."

He looked at Merope. "I'm sorry," said he gently. "But I don't think meddling in time is the answer for your son."

"There's no other way!" She wrung her hands. "I made him into what he is! You have to help me undo the curse!"

"What curse?" Asked Harry. 

Her eyes darted from Dumbledore to Harry and she closed her eyes. "I put a spell on him while he was in my womb. I... I thought I was saving him from pain and heartbreak. But I was wrong!"

"What did you do?" Asked Dumbledore.

"I... I put a spell on him so he would never feel love..." She whispered. "I did not want him to suffer as I had... I thought it would make him stronger... Help him survive... Keep him happy..."

"Instead he became a monster," said Harry flatly.


	6. Chapter 6

The only sound in the room for a while was the crackling of the flames in the fireplace.

"What spell did you use?" Dumbledore asked, his tone heavy.

"Absque amore..." Her voice trailed off.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "That's dark magic," said he. "Banned dark magic."

"I was desperate," she said. "I wanted... I did not want to him to have the grief that I was going through. I did not want him to suffer as I was suffering."

Dumbledore looked at her with compassion in his gaze. "Then he is truly beyond redemption. He is beyond any help."

"No!" Her voice was strong now. "He is not! The spell... The spell I used can be broken!"

"How?" Asked Harry. "How can a dark spell that prevents one from feeling love be broken?"

"He has to learn to love," she whispered. "Love something... A person, an animal, anything. That's all it takes to break that spell."

"And what your spell ensures is that he does not love anything." Said Dumbledore.

"He has to learn!" She said desperately.

"How can one learn to love?" Asked Harry, shaking his head. Merope had really screwed up her son's life. It was no wonder she was now here, begging for their help. And as much as Harry would have liked to help her, he could not see how. "Love is not something to be learned, is it? It has to happen."

"That's how it is for those like you," she whispered. "But for Tom, it has to be learned. That is the only way to save him from the spell."

"So, what do you expect us to do? Brew him a love potion?" The words came out before Harry could help.

Merope winced. Harry could have kicked himself for his insensitivity, but he was feeling angry. That a mother-any mother-would do such a thing to her own child was beyond his comprehension. And she had used banned dark magic to do it. She had to have known it was wrong! Harry dropped his eyes before the reproachful look in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Potions do not produce love," Merope whispered, "As I discovered, to my cost. No, for the spell to be broken, the love has to be real."

"What do you want us to do? Go back to the past and get Tom a pet?" Dumbledore's tone held a hint of asperity.

"That won't work," she muttered. "You taught him once. Teach him to make friends... To trust... To love... Get inside the barriers he's erected around himself..."

"That's not an easy task," said Dumbledore evenly. "Tom was not easy to know or like, even at eleven."

"You have to try..." Merope said. "I cannot be here for long. I was given only a week to meet and convince you. I have to go back. But I cannot have peace unless you agree!"

"Mrs. Riddle," said Dumbledore. "I am able to make allowances for your guilt over what you did, but you must know that what you suggest is impossible."

"Send someone if you cannot go!" Merope cried. "You are dying! This is a chance for you to save not just Tom, but the entire wizarding world!"

"Even my wish to save the wizarding world would not allow me to meddle with time. I'm sorry."

Merope slumped down. And vanished.

"She never did tell us where the artefact was hidden," said Harry.

"It's for the best," said Dumbledore. "We never know what effects meddling with time might bring."


	7. Chapter 7

The next day was Sunday and so Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to the lake where they sat on the grass enjoying the day while Harry narrated all that happened in the night to his friends.

Ron whistled softly. Hermione gasped. Harry raked his fingers through his hair.

"She seriously screwed up, didn't she?" Muttered Ron. "I can't believe she would have used such a spell."

"It must be advanced dark magic." Said Hermione, her eyes glinting. "I've never even heard of it."

"Professor Dumbledore said it was banned." Said Harry. "There must have been a reason."

"Do you think she was right?" Asked Ron after a moment. "That it can be broken?"

"I don't know. Anyway, Dumbledore refused to help her."

"It was the right thing to do too," said Hermione. "Time travel is too dangerous. It is never simple. You may end up changing too many things. You may even end up not being born."

"Somehow," Harry muttered. "I'm beginning to feel sorry for Tom Riddle. He never had a chance."

"Harry, this is You-know-who we are talking about," said Ron. "The dark wizard whose hobby is torture and murder?"

"I know, Ron, it's just-" he clenched his fists. "He might never have become dark if Merope hadn't done what she did. She...she puts a banned dark spell on her baby while it is still in her womb and then just leaves him in a muggle orphanage and dies... What chance did he have?"

"Harry," said Hermione. "This is not on you. Merope made her choices. And You-know-who made his. We can't change anything."

"Did he have a choice, Hermione?" Asked Harry. "After what his mother did, what else could he have become but a murdering psychopath especially considering he had to grow up in an orphanage?"

"Whatever happened, it can't be changed," said Hermione. "Dumbledore is right, Harry. Do you think he would have turned Merope down if there was a chance of changing things?"

"How can we know that without even trying?" Asked Harry. 

"Harry, mate, you can't save everyone," said Ron gently. "This is magic beyond our understanding. What if Dumbledore turned down Merope because her spell could not be broken? Even if you leave aside all the ramifications of time travel, there's always the possibility that what she did can't be undone."

"We have to find out," said Harry. "We have to find out about this spell."

"Any book is bound to be in the restricted section." Said Hermione. "And even then, they might not have full information. I mean, if it has a solution, then why is it a banned spell?"

"Just because it is banned, does not mean it can't be broken," said Harry.

"Yes, but," Hermione frowned. "Merope said she had only a week. I don't think we have the time to go through all the likely books. There's just not enough time for research." She turned to Harry. "You could ask Dumbledore, you know."

"I would have, but he's gone again," said Harry gloomily.

"I have an idea," said Ron, snapping his fingers. "Let's ask Snape. We have a DADA class tomorrow."

"Yes, and Snape is going to tell us, because he wants everyone to know how much into the dark arts he is." Harry shook his head. "Bad idea, Ron."

"Actually," said Hermione. "I think it's a very good idea. I can ask Snape saying I found the spell mentioned in some book. He might know enough about this spell."

"Or we could ask Slughorn," said Ron. "He would tell you anything, Harry. All you need to do is ask."

"If Snape can't tell us, we'll ask Slughorn." Said Hermione.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry was on his edge during Snape's class. He saw Snape giving him curious glances every now and then, and he tried to keep his mind blank. The last thing on earth he needed was for Snape to find out what was happening.

It was nearing the end of the class when Hermione raised her hand. Harry held his breath. Snape could ignore Hermione. He'd done it before. He might do it again.

Snape seemed to hesitate. Then he said, "Yes, Miss Granger?" 

His tone made it abundantly clear that she was wasting his time. 

"Sir, I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Absque amore spell?"

Snape stilled. The classroom went even quieter if such a thing was possible. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Draco Malfoy looking at Hermione, his gaze sharp.

"And where, Miss Granger, did you hear about this spell?" Snape was speaking slowly.

"I found it mentioned in a book from the restricted section, sir." Hermione looked unconcerned. "And I was curious to know what it was."

"It is dark magic, Miss Granger," Snape paused. "Very advanced. And also banned. The ministry is very strict about such spells."

"Surely the ministry can't object if a student wishes to have information on that? I'm not asking you to teach me how to cast it, professor. I'm just asking what it does and what, if any is the countermeasure for that."

Harry stifled a gasp of surprise. He could see Snape's lips thinning in anger. But he seemed to control himself.

"It is a dark spell which removes the capacity to love from the subject," he grated out. "The subject becomes incapable not only of love, but all softer emotions like pity, compassion, kindness and mercy."

There seemed to be a sneer in his voice.

"And is there any counter curse for this, sir?" Hermione's voice was steady.

"No," said Snape. "The curse has an inbuilt proviso. If the subject ever experiences selfless love, the curse can be broken and the subject shall be free to experience all the-ah- normal emotions."

The sneer was quite pronounced now.

"But when the curse prevents the subject from experiencing love, then how is it possible for him to feel that?"

"That I do not know, Miss Granger, having neither used nor been subjected to that curse." Snape sounded dismissive.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," muttered Harry under his breath.

Snape's eyes turned to look at him before flicking back to Hermione. "And now, I suggest, we turn our attention back to the lesson." 

There was an edge to his voice now and Hermione wisely did not persist.


	9. Chapter 9

The three of them discussed what they had learned from Snape, but still could not see what they should do.

"I mean," said Ron, "if the spell prevents you from feeling love, then how can it be broken by feeling love? That doesn't make any sense."

"And even if it were possible somehow," said Hermione, "how can someone going back to the past change anything? Unless they can do something to stop Merope from casting that spell in the first place?"

"Maybe that's what she wants," said Harry doubtfully, "but she sounded as if she wanted Dumbledore to break the curse on her son."

"Even she can't be that optimistic," muttered Hermione. "How does she expect Dumbledore to do it?"

"Well, if anyone can pull it off, Dumbledore can," said Ron. "Though how is still a moot point."

"Dumbledore did know him from when he was eleven," said Hermione reasonably. "So maybe Merope thought that Dumbledore could change him."

"From what I saw of him in that memory," said Harry. "There was no way that Dumbledore could have done anything. I mean, Riddle even refused to let him accompany him to Diagon Alley."

"So, he was self sufficient. But perhaps if someone really tried to get through to him..." Hermione might have tried to sound optimistic, but she sounded doubtful.

"Oh come on!" Scoffed Ron. "This is You-know-who we are talking about! Even if you discount the dark spell his mother put on him, he can't have been all sweetness and light! His pure-blood craze did not come from any spell, did it?"

"He was in Slytherin, Ron," said Hermione. "How could he have been anything else? That whole house is full of pure-blood crazy students!"

"Stop, please," said Harry, rubbing his face. "You will end up making me feel sorry for Voldemort, Hermione."

"Well, if you look at it objectively," Hermione started when Ron interrupted. 

"Leave it, Hermione. And whatever happened, it is not as if we can do anything. Let Dumbledore decide what to do."

"I think he has already decided," said Harry. "But I would like to talk to Merope again tonight. I just want to ask her what it is she wants. I mean, why she wishes for Dumbledore to try and break the spell. Why can't he go and prevent Merope from casting that spell? If he must go back, that is."

"But what difference does it make?" Ask Hermione. "If Dumbledore has decided not to meddle with time, then why give Merope a reason to persist?"

"I know what Dumbledore said," Harry spoke slowly. "But... If...if there's any chance that Tom Riddle can be changed, shouldn't that chance be taken? I mean, isn't that worth taking a risk for?"

"Good luck convincing Dumbledore of that," said Ron.

"I've got to try," muttered Harry. And perhaps, thought he, if Tom Riddle was reclaimed, his parents might still be alive. Harry might never even have to meet the Dursleys, let alone live with them.


	10. Chapter 10

Merope appeared that night too, just as Harry expected. This time, Ron and Hermione were also with him. They too wanted to meet Merope's ghost.

"Story to tell your grandkids, mate," Ron had said, "I met the ghost of You-know-who's mother!"

Hermione had rolled her eyes and told Ron not to be flippant, but Harry actually felt calmer due to Ron's attitude. He dared not allow himself to hope that he could prevail upon Dumbledore to go back to the past and change things. But surely, that might be a worthier cause and far better than to collect memories and information about Voldemort's younger days when he was Tom Riddle?

Merope appeared just as suddenly as she had the earlier two times. One moment the room was empty save the three of them, the next moment the ghost of Merope was standing in the middle of the room. She was wringing her hands again, though she was not crying. 

"Is he here?" She asked.

Harry shook his head. "He's away," said he.

She looked around the room with so much despair. "What do I do now?"

"Why don't you tell us what you want Professor Dumbledore to do?" Asked Hermione kindly. "We shall tell him and perhaps he will do it."

Merope shook her head, "It can't be done without the Transtemporal. And I can't risk giving anyone but him, its location."

"Come on, you can trust us," said Ron in an encouraging manner. "We won't tell anyone except Dumbledore."

"No!" Merope's voice was full of despair. "It is forbidden to reveal its location to anyone except him. Or to his deputy, the one chosen by him to carry out the task."

"What task?" Asked Harry.

"The task of going back in time to save my son," 

Harry exchanged a glance with his friends. 

"About that," said he. "What do you expect Dumbledore to do? Is he to stop you from putting that spell on your son?"

Merope shook her head, "The spell contributed to what he became, but that was not all. Tom... Tom needs to learn how to love..."

"Then perhaps, he could go back in time to meet you?" Asked Hermione, "Convince you to live for your son?"

"My fate cannot be changed," said Merope. "Not so Tom's. You have to ask him or his deputy to meet me here tomorrow! Time is running out for me!"

She vanished. 

"That went well," said Ron. "But how do we convince Dumbledore to do this?"

"And what was all that talk about a deputy?" Frowned Hermione.

"She said Dumbledore should send someone else if he's too busy." said Harry, thoughtfully. "Perhaps we can convince him to send someone else."

"Like who?" Asked Ron. "In case you haven't noticed, this is a very risky operation involving time travel. Only a nutter would agree to something like this. And I don't think Dumbledore would ever force anyone to do this."

"I don't think anyone else can do this," said Hermione. "I mean, Dumbledore knew Riddle. That is why he could do this. How can someone else do it? It has to be someone Riddle knows at school."

Ron snapped his fingers. "I know!" Said he excitedly, "Hagrid! He was at school withYou-know-who! And he's a member of the order. He'll also do whatever Dumbledore tells him. He's perfect!"

"He's also a half-giant and You-know-who hates everyone who is not a pure-blood," snapped Hermione.

"Besides, Tom Riddle was quite contemptuous of Hagrid," muttered Harry, remembering the way the Riddle from the diary had spoken of Hagrid. "I don't think he's likely to listen to anything Hagrid might say."

"Well, nothing for it except talk to Dumbledore then," shrugged Ron. "We'll sleep on it."

The other two whole-heartedly agreed.


	11. Chapter 11

Dumbledore was absent the next day too. Harry had no idea what to do next.

"Maybe we can ask Dobby to find him again?" Suggested Ron.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Professor Dumbledore might be doing something important, and he might not like being interrupted all the time. As far as he is concerned, he has made his decision. We will only get Dobby into trouble. We need to wait for him to return."

"Merope said she was running out of time," muttered Harry. "What if Dumbledore doesn't return in time?"

"There's nothing we can do, Harry," said Hermione. "We can hope he returns in time, but if he doesn't, there isn't much else for us to do."

Which did not comfort Harry much, though he tried not to think too much of it. Paying attention in classes had never been more difficult and after enduring two hours of Slughorn's sly hints about why Harry appeared to be distracted, all Harry wanted was to disappear entirely.

"Defence against Dark Arts next," groaned Harry. "Snape will murder me today."

"Harry," said Hermione. "You need to pay attention in class. Snape will know if you are not."

"Yea, and he'll probably know why too," muttered Harry. "He's an accomplished Leglimens, isn't he?"

 

"He won't use Leglimency on students!" Hermione sounded scandalized.

"No?" Ron snorted. "He would probably crucio all of us if Dumbledore weren't here. Compared to that, a bit of leglimency is nothing."

Harry chuckled, but he knew that Hermione was right. Slughorn was one thing, but he couldn't not pay attention in Snape's class. He did not want to attract any undue attention in Snape's class. But, thought he bitterly, Snape did seem to single him out for attention, just because of some boyhood feud with his father. And Snape actually thought Harry was attention seeking! He shook his head. Snape was one seriously disturbed wizard. Twisted too. Evil. Whatever Dumbledore, Lupin and Hermione believed, Harry was not going to trust Snape one iota. Which made it all the more imperative that Snape should not even suspect something was amiss with Harry.

"We have the whole day free after this class," said Ron, scanning the timetable. "Cool!"

"We're supposed to be studying Ron," said Hermione.

"We'll study. Fortunately, Slughorn didn't give us any homework."

"Doing homework does not equate to studying, Ron," muttered Hermione.

"To us, it does," said Ron.

There was no chance for further conversation as Snape swept into the room just then.

Harry applied himself diligently to listening to Snape's words. But when the time came for the practical application, Harry could not recall a single word of what Snape said. He still had not got the hang of non verbal spells. He avoided Snape's eyes as the man made vitriolic remarks on Harry's celebrity status and big-headedness. 

Ron and Harry were both groaning under the loads of homework given by Snape while Hermione was already onto hers. 

"It'll be Christmas by the time I finish these," groaned Ron. "Snape is a git."

"He's evil," muttered Harry. "He's a death eater, after all."

"Harry, he's on our side," said Hermione. "He's a spy, not a death eater."

"I don't trust him," said Harry. "We've no proof he ever reformed."

"I'm sure Dumbledore has proof." Said Hermione. "Just because he doesn't share everything with you doesn't mean he's not privy to information that you don't have,"

"Whatever," muttered Harry. "He's an evil git."

Hermione shook her head and went back to her homework.


	12. Chapter 12

Dumbledore was absent the next day too. Harry and Ron were worried, but Hermione maintained it was for the best.

"Travelling through time is risky, Harry," said she. "We should be glad the opportunity is being removed."

"If we hadn't been able to time-travel, we would not have been able to save Sirius," Harry reminded her, ignoring the pang he felt whenever he thought of Sirius. Perhaps they could change what happened to him too. They had to convince Dumbledore that this was a risk worth taking.

"That is true," conceded Hermione. "But we did not travel very far back, and even then came close to being seen by our other selves several times. Merope is talking about travelling almost fifty years. The ramifications of any change that far back is mind-boggling."

"Give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron. "I'm with Harry. Whatever the consequences, they ought to be better than the alternative."

"Even if I agree with you, there is nothing we can do, Ron. Dumbledore is not here and Merope would stop coming once her allotted week is over."

"I know," muttered Harry. He was feeling frustrated. Where was Dumbledore? Why had he turned down Merope without even talking to her in detail? 

"Harry," whispered Ron as they were going to the charms class room. "I've an idea. But don't tell Hermione or we'll never hear the end of it."

Chance for hearing what Ron's idea was lost as they reached the classroom. 

Harry was focussed on his lessons. But he surreptitiously kept looking at the time. He hoped Professor Flitwick would not ask him anything. Hermione was darting worried glances at him. 

On their way to the next class, Ron whispered to him, "You know she said she'll give the location to Dumbledore's deputy? Well, why don't you pretend to be that deputy? I mean, Dumbledore trusts you. And once we get the location, we can tell Dumbledore and let him decide."

Harry opened his mouth to object, and then closed it again. What Ron said actually made sense. But he knew Hermione would never agree if she knew. Ron was right. It was better to keep this from Hermione at the moment. They could tell her later, once Merope had told them the location of the time travelling device and departed. 

"So, tonight then?" He whispered to Ron.

"Yes, and you better be alone when she comes. I'll hide under the cloak."

Harry nodded. He was eager for the classes to end so they could return to Gryffindor tower.


	13. Chapter 13

Merope sighed deeply when Harry told her that Dumbledore could not come, but he'd sent Harry as his deputy.

"He trusts you," she murmured. "I knew it from the beginning. But I'd hoped he would send someone older and wiser."

Her eyes went to Harry who started fidgeting uncomfortably. 

"But age does not always equate to wisdom..." she murmured. "If he chose you, if he trusts you, there must be a reason...."

She made a gesture and the device whose image Harry saw materialized on the floor. It was smaller than a time turner, Harry saw. And it had no chain. It was like a brooch.

"You will need to pin it on you. The one who sent me back has set it to go to the right time. You can take someone with you if you wish. He or she should be touching you when you activate it by telling it your name."

"That's all that's required?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Oh yes, this is a very powerful magical artefact. But do not tinker with it or try to change the time set in it. It will destroy itself if such attempts are made."

"Who sent you back?" Asked Harry, curious.

"I'm not permitted to reveal that," said Merope. "And now I must leave. I thank you. I know you shall save my child."

She disappeared.

Ron came out of the cloak. "That was really weird." He looked at the object lying on the floor. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," said Harry. He took the cloak and folded it and shoved it into his pocket. His wand went into the other pocket. He bent down to take the device with Ron holding his shoulder in excitement.

As soon as he touched it, Harry felt a rush of air. His whole body tingled with the magic of the device. The world fell away and Harry felt as if he was floating in a void with Ron. Then their feet found solid ground and they looked around in confusion.

They were in a small road that ran next to a Manor House and it was day time.

"Where are we?" Muttered Ron, holding his wand aloft.

Harry's mouth was dry, for he'd recognized the place. But it looked different. 

"Little Hangleton," said he in a hollow voice. He took out his wand as he spoke. And the cloak, throwing it around both of them.

"Are you sure?" Asked Ron in a hushed whisper.

"Yes," Harry muttered. "I'm certain. But it looks different somehow."

Ron swallowed. "Different how?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know. It feels more- alive." He looked around and his eyes fell on a house near where they were standing.

"That's the Riddle House," he muttered. "But it looks -new, well maintained."

"How is that possible?" Asked Ron, fearfully. "And how is it daytime?"

"Ron," muttered Harry. "We're in the past! We're in Little Hangleton where Tom Riddle Sr lives!"


	14. Chapter 14

Harry removed the cloak and adjusted his glasses. 

"Ready?" He asked Ron. 

Ron nodded. He looked a bit pale, but his voice was steady.

"As I'll ever be."

They strode up the path to the Riddle House. Harry was not certain if this was a good plan. But he had no idea what else to do. He'd tried to pin the device on himself and spoken his name, but nothing had happened. 

Harry had thought the device had brought them here because they were supposed to do something. And he could not think of anything.

The two of them looked at each other and then Harry rang the bell. They were both dressed as muggles. Harry had found that the wizard money that had been in his pocket had changed to the muggle currency of that time. So he and Ron had got some muggle clothing and also took a room in the local inn. Harry got some newspapers which had given them the date. 

"January 1932?" Ron had panicked.

"I don't know," muttered Harry. "Voldemort must be what? Six? So we're not here to stop him from being born."

"As if Merope would send us back for that!" Scoffed Ron. "Wait a minute, you said his father lived in that big house you saw?"

Harry had nodded. 

"And he'd never attempted to find out what happened to Merope or the baby."

Harry had shaken his head slowly. "No..." he had looked at Ron. "I think you're right. I think we're here to convince Tom Riddle to take his son back."

Ron had been sceptical of the chances of Tom Riddle Sr. listening to two school boys, but had agreed it was worth a try. What had they to lose anyway? 

Harry came out of his musings as the door was opened by a butler who looked at them with a supercilious frown. Harry told them they were there to meet Mr. Tom Riddle. The butler let them in, asked them to wait and went to fetch the Young Master.

The house screamed money. The carpets were expensive, the paintings that hung on the wall were obviously expensive and the furnishings and furniture were all silk and velvet.

"And who are you two?" A drawling voice said from the living room door. Tom Riddle Sr. stood there, his brows furrowed.

"We.." Harry paused, choosing carefully what words to use. "We have something of a personal nature to discuss with you. It's about your wife."

Riddle's handsome face held an ugly expression as soon as Harry mentioned his wife. But he mastered himself.

"Come into the library," said he, tightly as he led them into another room on the side.

"We won't be requiring any refreshments," he snapped at the butler just before banging the library door closed.

Harry was strongly reminded of the Malfoys.

He turned to them. "How much?"

"What?" Asked Harry, surprised.

"How much for your silence regarding my wife?" he spoke the last word viciously. 

"You think we're here to blackmail you?"

"What else?"

"We're here because of your son," snapped Harry. "We don't want your money. And your wife is dead, for your information."

"Dead?" Riddle looked relieved.

"Yes, but you have a son," said Ron.

"The brat is not mine," said Riddle flatly. "I'm not able to have kids. My doctor has confirmed it. Why do you think I'm not married yet?"

"Well, this child is yours," said Harry, as he thrust a piece of paper at Riddle who took it automatically. "That is the address where you'll find him."

Riddle stared at that paper. "He's in an orphanage?"

"Your wife died in childbirth," said Harry. "Your son has been in that orphanage since birth. Perhaps its time he had a change."

Riddle raised his eyes from the paper. "It can't be," said he. "I told you I can't have a son. It's not possible."

But Harry could hear the undercurrent of hope in his voice.

"Mr. Riddle," said he. "Go and see him. Just see him. If you feel he's not yours," Harry shrugged. "But what would it hurt?"

Tom Riddle nodded. "All right."

He rang the bell. "Dennis will show you out."


	15. Chapter 15

Tom Riddle sat staring at the address on the piece of paper the strange boy had given him. Could it be true? Could the doctors have been wrong? Could he actually have fathered a child?

He read the address again. It was in London. He stood up. He would go there. He would meet this child. He would decide what to do later.

He frowned suddenly as he realized that the child's name was not mentioned in the paper. Only the name of the orphanage and that of the matron, Mrs. Cole. 

How in blazes was he to find the child without knowing his name? He scowled. He would go there anyway. If it indeed was his child, he had a rough estimate of how old he might be. This Mrs. Cole might remember Merope. 

He felt a twinge as he thought of her. At the time, he'd been too angry at her. After all, she'd raped him for all intents and purposes, used him, abused him. Whatever happened between them had happened because of some potion she gave him and not of his will. And he'd been furious at how his will had been taken away and he'd been trapped into marriage. He was also one hundred percent certain that the child she was carrying was not his. 

And that had just made everything so much more worse. After taking his will away, after tricking him into marriage, after indulging in sexual acts with him, again without his consent, she'd cheated on him too. He'd not believed her tearful protestations of love, nor her assertion that the child was his. He'd left her and come back home only to learn that Cecilia had married an Earl. 

He'd been quite bitter to actually spare a thought to Merope. But he'd gone and met his doctor again and had run all the tests again. And the doctor had confirmed what he'd said earlier. He would not be able to father a child. 

But now, there loomed before him the possibility that he'd actually fathered a child. If Merope had been telling the truth, then he'd abandoned his child too when he left her. And whatever the circumstances, no gentleman of his station abandoned his pregnant wife. Not unless the child was not his. But if the child was, then... then what he'd done was indefensible.

Tom Riddle strode out of the room. He'd go to London. Today. Before he thought too much and talked himself out of going. Before the anger and the fear came back, anger at Merope who had died, giving birth to his child in an orphanage. Fear, that still gave him nightmares, of the times they were together, when he was reduced to a mindless puppet doing her bidding. Would her child be like her? He shook the thoughts aside. Whatever he was, if he was his, he was a Riddle. And he belonged here, not in an orphanage. A Riddle could not be allowed to continue living in a place like that. Not now, not now.


	16. Chapter 16

He sat down in the office, waiting for Mrs. Cole. The orphanage was a big building, and looked clean. He was yet to see any of the children, but he hoped they at least had enough to eat. If there was a child here that indeed belonged to him, he did not want him to be malnourished. 

Mrs. Cole entered the office, apologising. "I'm so sorry, have you been waiting long, Mr.-?"

She stopped short, and said, "Oh my! You're here for Tom, aren't you?"

"Is that his name?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. I take it your name is also Riddle."

"Tom Riddle," said he dazedly. He cleared his throat. "May I meet him?"

She nodded. "I'll take you to him."

Tom followed her up a narrow stair to a door with fading paint. Mrs. Cole knocked before entering. "Tom, here's a gentleman to see you."

Tom's breath nearly stopped as he saw the child. He had seen old photographs of himself at that age. This child looked exactly like the boy in those photos, except he was a lot thinner and wore a grey and white tunic that Tom Riddle would not have been caught dead in.

"Hello, Tom," said he. The boy looked at him intensely. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Who are you?"

"Sh, Tom, that's no question to ask a visitor." Mrs. Cole said reprovingly.

"It's all right," said the senior Riddle, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm your father, Tom." He turned to Mrs. Cole. "What do I have to do to take him with me?"

"That's quite a bit of paperwork," she said.

He released the child and faced her fully. "Would a cheque cut through it faster?"

She sighed, "I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid the paperwork is rather substantial."

"The cheque is for a substantial amount."

She frowned. But Tom could see her wavering. 

"I... I'll arrange things so you can take him tomorrow."

Tom noticed that his son was listening with fascination at their exchange. He smiled at the boy, kneeling before him and taking his hands in his.

"I'll come back tomorrow, and we'll go away from here, ok?"

"Where will we be going?"

"Little Hangleton. That's where your new home will be. You will meet your grandparents. You will have a whole room all to yourself and all the toys you want. You'll like that, won't you?"

"Will you be there?" 

"Of course. And you'll go to school and learn things and make friends. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Friends," murmured the child. "I don't want friends. I am fine by myself."

Tom smiled. "Ah, we'll see. You'll change your tone once you get to school."

But he did have doubts. After all, he never had any friends in school. But then, the school he attended had all sorts of people attending it. And Tom Riddle simply could not make friends with nobodies.

Perhaps, it was good that his son didn't want any friends.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry's and Ron's feet hit the floor of the common room at the same time. They were surprised to note that it seemed as if no time had elapsed since their leaving. The device had worked once they left the Riddle Manor.

Ron cast a Tempus and said. "No time seems to have passed since we left."

"Has anything else changed? I mean, if Voldemort was brought up by his father, then perhaps he didn't become a muggle-killing dark lord?"

"No way to know that now," muttered Ron. "We'll worry about it in the morning."

Harry went to bed, feeling drained and tired. And yet, sleep was a long time coming. He and Ron had time travelled using an ancient device built by the founders of Hogwarts! And they had talked to Voldemort's father! It was really weird.

Had they succeeded? wondered Harry. Had Riddle gone to London and retrieved his heir? And would such a simple thing as that have created much impact? He suddenly thought of something. A way to check if Tom Riddle Jr. had indeed become Voldemort. 

Harry climbed out of the bed and moved to the mirror in the corner. It was dark, so he lit his wand with a Lumos. With his other hand, he pushed back the strands of hair that had a habit of falling onto his forehead. 

He stared at the mirror. Then his shoulders slumped. His scar was still there. Which meant Tom Riddle Jr. had become Lord Voldemort. Maybe Tom Riddle Sr. did not go to London. Maybe Voldemort remained in the orphanage. For, nothing seemed to have changed.

Harry went back to bed, feeling a bit dispirited. He would give the device to Dumbledore and tell him all that happened. Perhaps Dumbledore would find a way to ensure that Tom Riddle did not become Lord Voldemort.

Even with that resolution, it was almost morning when he finally fell into a troubled sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

Harry was relieved to see Dumbledore was at his usual place during breakfast. He pointed it out to Ron and Hermione. Ron whispered to him, “Are you going to tell him about what happened yesterday?’

“First, I need to know if we succeeded,” Harry whispered back.

“What are you two whispering about?” asked Hermione, frowning.

“Nothing,” muttered Ron. “Just wondering how Harry could corner Dumbledore.”

“What for?” asked Hermione. “Merope won’t be coming anymore. Her week was up yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“Still, we should tell Dumbledore about what happened, shouldn’t we?” asked Harry, lowering his head so that Hermione would not catch his lie. There were times when he wondered if Hermione knew Legilimency.

“Yes,” shrugged Hermione. “He has to know.”

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. Harry cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you first,”

Hermione looked instantly suspicious. “What have you two been up to?” she asked, with a glance which reminded Harry quite forcibly of Professor McGonagall. 

Harry glanced around him. No one seemed to be listening. But he did not want to incur Hermione’s wrath at the breakfast table. Fortunately, they had a free period after the first class.

“Later,” he whispered. “It’s a long story.”

Hermione was, quite understandably, angry. She was miffed and upset. But once Harry and Ron told her about their visit to Tom Riddle Sr., she calmed down enough to frown. Which was a definite improvement on the scowl, thought Harry.

“So you’re saying it was you two who convinced Voldemort’s father to take him?”

“Yes,” said Harry impatiently. “What has that to do with anything?”

“You succeeded,” said Hermione. 

“How do you know that?” asked Ron, surprised.

“Don’t you remember? Of course, you don’t. Well, the long and short of it is that you, Harry, told us after your last lesson with Professor Dumbledore that Tom Riddle Jr. was in his father’s house when Professor Dumbledore went to give him his Hogwarts letter. And at the time Professor Dumbledore did not think to question Tom Riddle Sr. as to the circumstances under which he brought his son home. By the time the question became important, Tom Riddle Sr. was dead. So, Professor Dumbledore felt there was some inexplicable mystery linked to Tom Riddle Jr.’s rescue from the orphanage.” She paused. “Only, there was no mystery. It was only the two of you, meddling in things and not telling your best friend!”

Ron managed to look guilty and Harry forced himself to look ashamed. But at least, their immediate doubts were cleared.

“But-” Ron started. “It didn’t change anything. Going from the orphanage to his dad’s home did not change him.”

“Tom Riddle Sr. did not appear to have been an adequately loving Dad,” muttered Hermione. “But he still might have been an improvement on the orphanage. It is surprising that no change has happened.” She looked at Ron. “You do come up with some good insights at times. I’m impressed.”

She turned to look at Harry. “You need to go right now to Dumbledore and tell him everything.”

“I was thinking of the evening,” said Harry.

“What if you land in detention?” she asked. “Better not take chances.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort hotly that there wasn’t going to be any detention, when Ron said, “Hermione’s right. We’ve got Snape coming up next. The odds of you getting a detention are quite good, if you ask me. Better not chance it.”

“That’s Snape’ problem,” muttered Harry angrily. But he knew his friends had a point. Dumbledore was here today. He could not postpone this to another day.


	19. Chapter 19

Dumbledore was not angry, but thoughtful. He examined the device in minute detail. He moved his wand over it but nothing happened. At last he lifted his face to look at Harry.

"This is a powerful device and it was a powerful enchantment you activated."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. What had seemed like a good idea when he and Ron had talked it over seemed less and less so as he looked at Dumbledore's face. He coughed to clear his throat.

"We, that is Ron and I, thought it was a good idea."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Right now, we have only one option before us. You, Harry, took this device from Merope on false pretexts. She believed you were my agent when she gave this to you. Your suitability was tested by the device itself and you were found suitable when you convinced Tom Riddle Sr. to take his son."

"It was Ron who figured out what to do." Muttered Harry.

"Yes. And that makes it imperative that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger be here when I put forward my suggestion."

Harry nodded. 

Ron and Hermione looked nervous as they entered Dumbledore's office. Unlike Harry, neither of them had ever been here before. Dumbledore smiled at them like an indulgent grandfather before waving them to the chairs that were on either side of Harry. They sat down, looking even more nervous.

"Harry told me about your adventure the other day," Dumbledore said. "It is my understanding that you were with him, Ronald, were you not?"

"Yes, sir," said Ron nervously before adding. "And it was my idea, sir, to tell Merope that Harry was your agent. So, if you are going to punish anyone..." his voice trailed off as Dumbledore shook his head with a smile.

"No, Ronald. We're not here to affix blame or to hand out punishments. I simply wish to explain certain things to you." He tapped the device on his table. "These are powerful magical objects. They are invested with a magic of their own and we have very little knowledge of such magics. Normally, what Harry did when he took the device from Merope under false pretexts should have created a binding magical contract, very similar to an unbreakable vow."

Ron blanched. "I had no idea," he said, shaken and panicked. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have suggested it. I had no idea!"

"I know," said Dumbledore softly. "But as I said, that is normally what happens in such a transaction. But because Merope was dead, no such bond was formed. Harry is not under any obligation to go back in time to save Tom Riddle from a loveless existence."

"But?" Asked Hermione. "There is a but, isn't there, professor?"

"I'm afraid there is, Miss Granger. But that is one that need not concern any of us unduly."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"This device, as I said, has magic of its own. And that magic has calibrated itself to you now, Harry. Only you can use this to travel through time. No one else can use it. But, as I said, that needn't concern us much. I've always had reservations when it comes to intervening in past events. Therefore this is actually a good thing."

Harry was still. "What do you propose to do with it?"

"It will make a nice addition to the collection in the Hogwarts museum," Dumbledore smiled. "But it is yours for all intents and purposes, so you have to agree."

Harry looked down. He could not do this. He did not want to go back in time to save his parents' murderer. He'd been hoping that Dumbledore would find a way to do it without involving him.

Dumbledore rose. "I'll let the three of you to discuss it and to decide. I thought of the museum since it was made by the founders. But you can keep it in your Gringotts vault till you decide what to do with it." He ushered them out. "I'll be here if you wish to consult me."

They had almost no time to discuss anything as they had to rush into Defence against the Dark Arts class. Fortunately, they reached before Snape and thus avoided punishment. The rest of the classes kept them too busy to have any sort of talks. But the last period of the day was free and they rushed back to the common room, straight from the green houses.

Back in the common room, Hermione said, "The museum does sound like a good option, Harry,"

"Yes, it does," agreed Ron. "It's a shame it can't be used now, but at least it was good for something, right?"

"I want to use it," said Harry. He did not know when he'd made that decision, but he had no doubt that he should do it. Dumbledore might be having reservations, but he and Ron had already time-travelled without any consequences. He was now almost ashamed that he'd been prepared to let someone else do this.

His friends stared at him like he was crazy. Perhaps he was. There was no way to tell. 

"Mate, that's a bad idea." Said Ron.

"I agree," said Hermione. "You heard what Professor Dumbledore said about meddling with time-"

"You don't get it!" Harry hissed. "Merope trusted me! Okay, I lied to her, but I did it in good faith! And she trusted me. I've cheated a ghost. How pathetic is that?"

"I understand Harry," said Hermione wringing her hand. "But you cannot do this! This is not the way!"

"It is the only way," he said flatly. "And I have to do it." He paused. "I'm going to miss you two, but I suppose when I'm back, it'll be as if no time has passed, so you won't have a chance to miss me much."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. 

"If you think," said Hermione, "that you are going to do this by yourself, you have another thought coming. Have you ever read Hogwarts: A History? How are you ever going to fit into the society of fifty years before when you know nothing about it? You need me, Harry. If you are serious about making this work, then you need me."

"And me," said Ron. "She'll drive you crazy in no time, otherwise."

Harry was too overwhelmed even to protest. He just nodded, his heart light. Having his friends would certainly be a comfort.

"We'll go and tell Dumbledore this evening," he said. "After dinner."

"And if he doesn't agree?" Asked Hermione.

"He will," said Harry. "He has to."


	20. Chapter 20

Tom gazed out of the window from his compartment in the Hogwarts Express. He wondered for the umpteenth time why his father insisted on dropping him off at Platform Nine-and-Three Quarters when it clearly made him uncomfortable. In any one else, it might have been amusing. But in Tom Marvolo Riddle's father, it was highly irritating not to mention embarrassing. Bad enough that he, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, had a muggle for a father; for that muggle to be so uncomfortable among wizards was highly annoying.

Of course, Tom was not complaining that he had Tom Riddle for his father. The man might be a muggle, but he had his uses. His money, for instance. He was, in muggle parlance, filthy rich. And the Gringotts goblins were quite happy to change pound notes into galleons. 

When Tom contrasted his life in the orphanage with his life after his father came, he became angry. How could his father have just ignored him for six years? He just abandoned him and his mother and thought of him only six years later. What kind of man does that!

Tom understood that his father was probably scared of magic, otherwise how could he have abandoned his mother? She was descended from Slytherin himself! She had stooped to marry him and he had dared abandon her! Of course, she was weak too. How could one descended from the greatest of all wizarding lines have given upon life simply because of a muggle's rejection? He could not understand it. Tom wondered why he was cursed with parents who were just so disappointing.

Tom glanced at the ring on his finger. He'd lied to his father about it. He told him it was a birthday gift from a friend. The only true part about it was it really was a birthday gift. But it was from his uncle, not any friend. Not that he had friends.

Tom knew his father would not like it if he learned he visited his uncle. Which was why he lied. He'd always been able to lie convincingly. He had managed to bring Morfin Gaunt around too, but not through lies. He shared in full his uncle's contempt for his parents. And it only took the honest expression of that to win Morfin over. He'd given the ring to Tom on his 15th birthday, after Tom had sneaked off in the night to visit him. He fretted a bit about the locket his mother had taken though.

Tom knew his father didn't have it. He had asked him about it, saying he saw it on her in an old photograph. But his father had just looked blank. Tom knew his father wasn't much of an actor, he could not even feign ignorance of Tom's birthday surprise gifts.

Tom did ask his father once about why he left his mother. But the only thing that conversation made clear was how much his father feared magic. 

"I'd been engaged to Cecilia," he'd told Tom. Cecilia. The woman he'd once seen at a social function came to his mind. She was beautiful certainly, but still only a muggle. 

"Your mother," his father had cleared his throat. "She...um... I think she put an enchantment on me. I... I ran off with her, married her.... we were together... she became pregnant and we were happy... Then one day I woke up... and my head was clear... all my feelings for her seemed to have vanished.... She told me... she told me she was a witch, she admitted to giving me a love potion or something, she swore she loved me... but I...I could not feel anything... I only felt anger and revulsion... if it was true, then..." he'd shuddered then. "It was awful," he'd muttered.

Awful? Tom could not understand it. Awful because he learned his wife was a witch? Or awful because she'd ensorcelled him? Tom could not get it either way. His mother had only used her gift to get what she wanted. The same way his father used his money. His mother was neither rich nor beautiful, but she was a witch descended from Slytherin. 

But he'd remained silent, allowing his father to speak.

"She begged me to stay with her for your sake... I... all the doctors told me I would not be able to father a child... They were certain... Cecilia and I had talked of adoption.... I thought... I thought the child wasn't mine... and that only made me angrier..." He had looked at Tom with pleading eyes. "I did not know, Tom. I was upset and angry... I was frightened.... you understand, don't you?"

And Tom had nodded, "I understand, father," he'd said. 

And he had understood. He'd understood that his father was afraid of his mother's powers. He thought his muggle doctors were right. He never considered that his wife might be able to do what his muggle medicines could not. In short, he neither understood nor appreciated Merope. And so he'd left her. Tom understood all right. But he also knew he could not express it. 

His contempt for his father had only increased at this new evidence of his fear for the magical world. And yet, the man insisted on accompanying him when he left for school. It was really pathetic.

Tom frowned as the compartment door opened and an unfamiliar face peeked in.

"Hi," said the new comer. "May we join you?"

And before Tom could say no, he was in the compartment, and two others had followed him in. They sat opposite Tom. Tom scowled. He was beginning to wish that he'd not moved from the Prefect's compartment. Truth was, he could not stand his fellow prefects. The only one he could ever stand was himself, which was why he'd sought a compartment all to himself. He'd scared off the first years who were in this one, but now these strangers had come in. 

Tom suppressed his anger and studied the strangers warily. He'd never seen them before, but they seemed to be older than him or perhaps the same age as he. They were dressed in black robes, which seemed to indicate them as Hogwarts students. But how could he never have seen them before?

He studied them out of the corner of his eye. One of them was tall and lanky with a shock of auburn hair and a freckled face. One was a girl with very bushy hair. The third was a boy with untidy black hair and a pair of glasses. He also had the most brilliant green eyes Tom had ever seen, though the glasses obscured their brilliance somewhat. The three seemed to be so studiously avoiding him that it had to be deliberate. 

Tom smirked. These older students seemed to be nervous of him. This could be interesting. This could be fun.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry was feeling uncomfortable. Although Tom Riddle had his face pressed against the compartment window and he was ostensibly ignoring them, Harry was keenly aware that he was scrutinizing them. He kept his face averted. Tom Riddle was likely born with Legilimency powers. Harry did not want him to read his mind and know the truth.

He, Ron and Hermione were as ready as they could be for this mission. Harry did not want to think of it as an adventure or even a quest. It was a mission. For, Dumbledore had made it very plain that their chances of success were negligible. It had taken a few months to persuade him. And even then, he had reservations. 

“Time travel is not to be trifled with,” he had told them. “And no one understands its precise nature as yet. Those who know will agree that the chances of time travel causing any significant impact on time is miniscule. Time is like a river and a pebble thrown in the current, does not change its course. However, you are determined to do this and the best I can do is to help so that you will come back safely.”

Professor Dumbledore had given them a letter to be given to his younger self before start of term. The Dumbledore of the past had arranged for them to be admitted into Hogwarts as fifth years. The story was to be that Harry was homeschooled by his parents, who were now dead and Dumbledore was one of his trustees who decided Harry should attend Hogwarts. Both Ron and Hermione were his neighbours and friends and though their parents preferred to homeschool them, they did not want to deprive Harry of his friends during this difficult time. They were all using their real names since the chances of anyone recognizing them this far back in the past were negligible. Apart from darkening Ron’s hair to a darker, almost auburn shade, their appearances too were left unchanged.

“There might be Weasleys and Potters at school, but they might not connect you with them. Even if they do, just hedge. There are so many branches in both families that all of them might not know one another.”  
Dumbledore had told them.

He had also told them it would be impossible for them to be sixth years since without completing OWLs, they could not make it to NEWT year. "Better be in OWL year. It will not be a repetition of what you learned earlier. For one thing, non-verbal spells in Defence against the Dark Arts started in OWL year then. Potions and DADA were more advanced in those days. After Voldemort's rise and fall, the Ministry had reservations about fifth years who were yet to pass their OWLs learning advanced Defensive spells and Potions. Most were removed from the curriculum and the remaining were moved to NEWT classes."

That, at least, was a relief, thought Harry. That they would learn some proper DADA for a change.

They all decided that they were to be residents of Ottery St. Catchpole since Ron was familiar with the history of the place though his parents had been staying there only after their marriage. There had been no Weasleys living there before that. So, the chances of anyone connecting them with the Weasley or Potter pureblood families were remote. And there were no Grangers of note among the old wizarding families. 

Since their mission was related to Voldemort, Hermione was pretending to be a half-blood instead of a muggle-born. Of course, Harry thought, the Voldemort they knew might not have differentiated much between the two, but this boy sitting in front of them might. If not, they might as well pack up and leave. Harry was not ready to put his best friend in danger, not for a promise given to a ghost, not for his own selfish reasons for wanting to stop Tom Riddle from becoming Lord Voldemort.

The boy in front of him was different from the memories Harry had of him. The Tom Riddle Harry remembered was the inmate of an orphanage and it showed. The boy sitting in front of them was obviously used to money. He had a Prefect's badge pinned on to the front of robes that were evidently new and expensive. Harry wondered if he would have to deal with someone who combined Malfoy with Voldemort. It was not an enticing combination. The plan was becoming less and less appealing to Harry, the longer they sat in that compartment with the younger boy.

At least, thought he, Tom Riddle in this timeline was younger to them. Dumbledore had examined the device and had told them that it appeared to be configured to take them back to the time just before term started for Riddle's fifth year. 

"That was the year he opened the Chamber of Secrets!" Harry had exclaimed. 

"And committed his first murder by killing Myrtle," Dumbledore had said gravely. "Whoever sent Merope here with the device was hoping that we would be able to stop it. And thereby, stop him from becoming Voldemort."

"But don't you think we can, Professor?" Hermione had asked, worried.

"The nature of time, Miss Granger, is beyond our understanding. If changing the past and by extension the present, were as simple as using a time turner or the Transtemporal, why has it never succeeded? No, Miss Granger, I have to be honest here. I do not trust this endeavour will be fruitful. But you three have to try this, if only to learn a lesson the hard way."

We will succeed, thought Harry. We have to. There was no other alternative.


	22. Chapter 22

"I'm Tom Riddle," said Tom, holding out his hand, watching the discomfiture of the three. He judged it was time he made them sweat. 

"Harry Potter," the boy with the glasses shook his hand, though Tom had seen the hesitation. He really did have the most brilliant emerald eyes. Slytherin green, thought Tom, before the boy dropped his eyes and Tom's hand.

"Ronald Weasley," the auburn haired boy said.

"Hermione Granger," said the girl.

Neither of them attempted to shake hands, confining themselves to nods. The names did cause Tom to frown. There were Potters and Weasleys amongst the pure-bloods, but Tom had still not heard of any Granger. The Weasleys he knew were all red-heads, and this boy's hair was auburn. But that was a minor point.

"Are you new to Hogwarts? I don't recall seeing you before." And Tom never forgot a face. Never. He wanted to remember every single person he ever met so he could adequately reward or punish them when he attained his goals. The day would not be far, he thought. His research had convinced him that the Chamber of Secrets did exist. All he had to do now was to find where his noble ancestor had hidden it and how it had to be accessed. Tom had combed almost every inch of the castle in the last two years, to no avail. But maybe this year, he would be lucky. He had a feeling he was missing something vital, some clue. He gave an inward shrug. Time enough for that later.

"We are new," spoke the girl. "We were being homeschooled."

"And now your parents decided to send you to Hogwarts?" Tom had heard better stories. He wondered why people bothered making up stories that were so blatantly false. If they did not want to tell him anything, fine. But such a bad lie? It was almost amusing.

"My parents are dead." The green eyes were grim and the voice was harsh. "And Professor Dumbledore, he thought it's better if I attended Hogwarts now... He's one of my trustees."

Oh. So that story wasn't false. Or the green-eyed boy was too good a liar. But he was Dumbledore's protégé, and Dumbledore was, unquestionably, Tom's least favourite teacher. 

The man could teach. Even Tom had to concede that. But he just seemed too suspicious of Tom. Tom never liked him, had mistrusted him from the day he'd come to his house to explain to his father and him about Hogwarts and about the wizarding world. Tom's father was not happy, but Dumbledore had convinced him. Tom supposed he should be grateful, but he was too wary of the man to feel grateful.

Dumbledore just seemed too suspicious of Tom. In the first excitement of learning he was a wizard, Tom had blurted out a few things that he should not have. Though Dumbledore showed no reaction, Tom had seen the shock on his father's face. He was probably thinking of the time when Tom's math teacher had just collapsed, clutching his head, after he'd given Tom a detention. And the time when Steve Desmond, the baker's boy had inexplicably, fallen down a ditch and broken his arm the day after he'd slung some mud over Tom's new uniform. His father never asked him about the incidents, though Tom felt that he'd told Dumbledore about them. There had to be a reason behind Dumbledore's watchfulness around him.

Well, Tom hoped Dumbledore's new pets would not end up in Slytherin. Though it might be a slap in the face for his teacher if they did. But Tom did not want them anywhere near him. They might be spies, for all he knew.

If they were, he knew how to make them pay. And pay they would, and Dumbledore would not even know what happened to his pets.


	23. Chapter 23

Harry, Ron and Hermione fidgeted all the way through the sorting. They wondered how they would be sorted once their turn came. Would they be sorted at all? But how else to put them in a House? Surely, Professor Dumbledore didn't have that much influence to have them sorted without the hat? And if the hat put them all in Gryffindor, then how were they supposed to get close to Tom Riddle?

Hermione frowned slightly. It was not an ideal plan, but it was the best they could come up with. They could try and get close to Riddle, be his friends, but not his followers. He was a loner, but if they could break through that barrier, perhaps they could break Merope's spell? It was a long shot, but they had no other ideas.

Hermione knew Harry and Ron would be lost without her. They needed her here, to prevent them from tripping up. But she wondered who was going to keep her from tripping. Harry would give his life for them both, but what they needed was to think through everything. They had to be careful of their words, of everything they would speak, they had to be constantly on their guard. Somehow she did not think it was going to be as easy as it sounded.

She watched the line of first years getting shorter and shorter. She had paid no attention to any of them. It was not as if she was going to be here for long anyway. She didn't belong here. The Hogwarts that she belonged to, was more than fifty years in the future. It occurred to her that the education she was going to get here might be out dated. A lot of magical discoveries had happened in the intervening years, and she was going to miss all that. The only relief was that Professor Dumbledore had assured her that she would not miss a single lesson back in her own time. 

"It'll be as if no time has passed here," he had said. "So you need have no worries on that score."

Ron had rolled his eyes at her. He could not understand her worry about missing classes. And even Harry felt that she was not giving their adventure the importance it deserved. Harry might choose to call it a mission, but Hermione felt it to be an adventure. And she really didn't have much hopes for its success. What if they broke the spell? Would it make that much of a difference? Besides which, they could not stay back in this time. They had to return to their own time. And when they do, how will Tom Riddle take it? If they somehow managed to befriend him, how would he feel on losing them? They could tell him the truth, but how would he feel about being lied to? She sighed. There were too many variables, and they all depended on Tom Riddle. Was she the only one who saw all that?

Harry and Ron did not want to hear any of it, not that it stopped her from telling them. Fat lot of good it did. "We'll figure something out," was Ron's refrain. She didn't think Harry even listened to her. He was too caught up in his idea of how it would turn out to really apply thought to her objections. 

She was startled as Professor Dumbledore called out her name. 

"Miss Granger, please put on the hat," he said, smiling.

Hermione went forward, hiding her fears behind a nervous smile. She kept her eyes on Professor Dumbledore, and mentally contrasted him with the Headmaster she knew. It helped calm her and she sat on the stool gingerly. The professor placed the hat on her head and Hermione drew a deep breath of apprehension.


	24. Chapter 24

The three new students took their places in the Slytherin table, looking nervous. The other Slytherins-never a warm-hearted bunch- did not pay them much attention. There were the odd nods and smiles, but no one went out of their way to make them feel welcome. 

Tom watched them with narrowed eyes. He had them pegged for Gryffindors from the first time he saw them and yet, they were placed by the Sorting Hat into Slytherin. Tom's fingers drummed the table, a frown on his face. It was an inconsistency, there was something here he did not understand and Tom Marvolo Riddle hated secrets. Especially when they concerned Dumbledore and mysterious fifth years who appeared out of thin air to attend Hogwarts. Tom did not like it. It made him wary. It made him angry.

He studied the three again. They looked nervous and uncomfortable. It was natural if they were coming to school for the first time, but there was a singular lack of curiosity for three students who have never been to Hogwarts. The first years were all looking around and up into the ceiling in awe, but not these three. The girl- Granger- did look up and around occasionally, but she did not seem surprised. Even the ghosts didn't make them gasp. It was very odd. 

Tom turned his attention to his food. He would solve the mystery of these strange students. They were in the same House after all. He had always been able to charm anyone into doing what he wanted. These three would be no trouble at all. After all, he had charmed a whole house of pure-bloods into accepting and even looking up to him, a half-blood. After that, these three were a piece of cake. He smirked into his plate. They were never going to know what he was up to, till he had all their secrets from them. And then if it turned out he was correct and they were planted by Dumbledore to spy on him, they would pay the price.

Tom would have been surprised had he known that his quarry were engaged in thoughts not unlike his own. Harry, Ron and Hermione were fidgeting. They could not even discuss anything since they might be overheard.

Fortunately, there was so much noise in the table and they were sitting next to first years. Which prompted Ron to whisper in Harry's ear, 

"Have you any idea how we got sorted into Slytherin?"

Harry shook his head. "I never thought it possible." He paused. "It was as if it was confunded or something.... It was very silent today. Just said Slytherin, nothing else. That's quite unlike that hat."

Ron nodded. "Tell me about it!"

They were silent again. Ron was wondering anxiously what he had got his friends into. If he had never suggested to Harry that he pretend to Merope to be Dumbledore's deputy, they would have been back in Hogwarts, safe and sound. At that time, it had seemed like a good idea. Till that first time he went back in time with Harry, Ron had thought of Time Travel as a kind of lark, something fun.

He raised his head to see Tom Riddle staring at them intently. He hastily lowered his head. This was no fun. It was dangerous, more dangerous than he'd realized. If anything happened to them here, it would be his fault for being so idiotic as to suggest that plan to Harry. 

Ron gave himself a mental shake. It was no use worrying about what was done. They had a plan, though how to execute it was beyond their understanding right now. They had intended to befriend Riddle, to get close to him, and in the process, get him to care for them. That too had seemed like a good plan, back in the safe warmth of their common room. Here, faced with the reality of Riddle's cold eyes on them, he could not believe they had been that naive. But they had no option now. They had to go ahead with it. They had to find a way to break the barriers that Merope's spell and his own anti-social tendencies had constructed around Riddle.

Ron stole a glance at Riddle and sighed. They did have their work cut out for them.


	25. Chapter 25

The next day at the breakfast table, Tom Riddle sat down next to them. Harry watched him warily, wondering what was up.

"You know," said Riddle. "This whole school is prejudiced against Slytherins as a rule. So, we Slytherins need to stick together. Since you are new, you would be needing a lot of help, getting around the castle. Just call me. And if Peeves gives you any trouble, just tell him you are my friends."

"Thank you," said Harry, not understanding what was happening. Why should Tom Riddle offer to help them? Why did he call them his friends? But, thought he, since it was their intention to befriend him, the reasons did not matter. 

Tom took them to their first class, Defence Against the Dark Arts. He told them he'd got permission from his Head of House to be their guide for the first day. Their Head of House was Professor Slughorn who taught Potions. "Professor Slughorn is very good at teaching," he said. "But he's even better at creating relationships. If he likes you, you can get away with murder in his class."

"And Professor Dumbledore?" Asked Harry.

Tom grimaced. "He's a good teacher," was all he said. 

"And who teaches DADA?" Asked Ron,

"Professor Stone. He's good with theory, practice not so much. The only good thing is he allows us plenty of practice. All right, here we are. Have fun."

They entered the class room. It looked different from any of the class rooms Harry remembered from his time. Which should not have been surprising considering Hogwarts was a magical castle. 

Professor Stone turned out to be a middle aged wizard, who had brown hair and eyes and a staid demeanour. He introduced the three new students to the class, had them answer a few questions relating to his subject and seemed satisfied with the answers he received.

"Right," said he. "When I heard home-schooled, I had my reservations. But it seemed whoever was teaching you, knew what they were about."

The class was interesting, especially to Harry since it was his strongest and most favourite subject. Professor Stone was good in theory, as Riddle said, but he also knew how to make that theory interesting to students. More than half the time was devoted to practice sessions and Professor Stone being more encouraging than Snape, both Harry and Ron quickly managed to do a few non-verbal spells. Hermione of course was already proficient and Professor Stone was highly impressed with her.

"You are a genius, Miss Granger," he said as the bell rang, making Hermione blush rosily. 

"Next class is Charms," said Ron, consulting his time table. "Which way is the classroom, do you know? And do you suppose Flitwick is teaching it?"

"It's quite possible," said Hermione, looking around. All the other students had left in different directions and they had no idea which way to go. Tom Riddle, their self-appointed guide too seemed to have disappeared.

"Lost?" It was one of the professors. "Where do you want to go?"

"Charms," said Harry just as Hermione exclaimed, "Professor Binns?"

Professor Binns, for it was he, though he was very much alive, looked at her. "Do I know you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I recognized you from the staff table yesterday."

He smiled. "Come, I'll show you to Professor Flitwick's class."

They followed him, trying not to gape at a very old Professor Binns who wasn't a ghost yet.


	26. Chapter 26

The next few weeks went by in a blur. They shared classes and meal tables with Riddle, but though he was polite and friendly, they could see that his eyes were cold, hard and calculating. His voice might hold warmth and his lips might smile, he even had a trick of making his face light up, but for anyone who looked closely, it was evident he was completely insincere. They were only beginning to appreciate what a tough task they had set for themselves. Tom Riddle did not hang out, not with them, not with anyone. What he did was accept their company to meals, to classes and to the library. He allowed them to be near him in the common room. In short, whatever they tried, they felt as if they were making no progress. It was like trying to make a dent on a stone wall with their bare hands. 

"I'm beginning to think this is a fool's errand," muttered Harry. It was a Sunday. And they were near the lake. Harry had suggested they spend the day away from Riddle. 

"I agree," said Ron. "He's like a machine. What are we supposed to do?"

"I am out of ideas," said Hermione. "It's a pity he turned dark. He's really intelligent." She sounded grudging. 

Ron chuckled. "It bothers you, doesn't it, that you are no longer the best in the class?"

"You could not be more wrong, Ron," said Hermione with dignity. 

Ron, with a tact rare to him, refrained from pushing.

But Hermione did have a point, thought Harry. He'd never thought he'd meet someone smarter than Hermione. But that was before he met Tom Riddle. And unlike Hermione, Riddle did not seem to be regurgitating the text books verbatim. Though she might deny it, Harry knew it was a sore point with Hermione. Though Harry was certain Hermione could do the same, she had a fixation on doing things the correct way, and in her books, it meant following the text books verbatim.

Potions were not so easy for Harry since most of the potions they had in this time were different from the ones in the Half-Blood Prince's book. Many of the potions in the Prince's book were there, but some of them were recent inventions and were not part of their curriculum yet. Harry did well whenever a Prince potion as Ron called them came up, but was fairly average in the other classes. But even then, he was better than he was in their own time since Slughorn did not browbeat his students like Snape.

"We have to find a way," muttered Harry. "Otherwise we might as well pack up and go home."

"He's coming here," said Hermione, frowning. "Do you think he suspects something? He never lets us out of his sight."

"How could he?" But Ron sounded scared.

"I'm sure he doesn't," said Harry. "You're thinking too much Hermione. If he's suspicious it's because I mentioned Dumbledore was my trustee in the train."

Ron looked relieved. "That must be it, then."


	27. Chapter 27

Tom Riddle frowned as he approached the three. They were sitting by the lake and looked far more relaxed than he'd ever seen them. He grimaced. They were always very tense around him, watching him like hawks when he wasn't looking. He was almost certain they were spying on him, but unless it was for their own fascination, he could not see any purpose to it. They were certainly not passing on any messages to Dumbledore.

He nodded at them, but refrained from joining them. They seemed to be enjoying themselves and if he could double back and hide, he might be able to know what they're up to. They were too careful around him to let slip anything. He could see the relief that appeared on Weasley's face as he passed them and Granger looked relieved too. Potter did not look at him, but averted his eyes. Tom wondered what Potter had against him. The other two were nervous and apprehensive around him, but Potter seemed to dislike him. He was not obvious, but at times Tom caught this look in his eyes. This look that spoke volumes. And Tom really could not understand why Potter should hate him. 

He doubled back as he'd planned, and made his way behind a bush from where he could see and hear them.

"Harry, watch out!" Granger shrieked, whipping out her wand. 

Tom frowned as Potter jumped up, wand in hand to find a small brown snake that was only inches away from him.

"Go away!" Potter said, and the snake slunk away into the grass.

Tom stifled a gasp. Potter had spoken in Parseltongue. He looked at the older teen. He had to find out how he spoke Parseltongue. And why he chose to keep it a secret in spite of being in Slytherin. Potter had again sat down on the grass.

"Has it gone?" Asked Weasley as he sat down, gingerly on the grass.

"It was only a snake, Ron," said Granger as she plopped down next to him. "Oh no!"

"What happened?"

"I think I forgot to do the homework Professor Stone gave!"

"I haven't started on any of my homework," replied Weasley. "There's plenty of time."

"I think Hermione's right," said Potter suddenly. "Let's go do our homework."

Weasley looked at Potter as if he'd gone mad though Granger looked gratified. The three rose, brushed their robes and made their way back. Tom ground his teeth. Just his luck! But he would find their secret. There would be other opportunities. For the moment, he would focus on Potter and find out how he knew Parseltongue.


	28. Chapter 28

Harry frowned at the notice for the Quidditch tryouts. He wanted to try, but he had no broom. There was no way he could have brought his Firebolt into this time. He supposed he could try with one of the school brooms, but he would certainly need a decent broom if he got selected. Ron was in the hospital wing with a cold and fever and Hermione was with him. Harry found he was but a third wheel and had excused himself and was returning to the dormitory when he saw the notice in the common room.

"Something wrong, Potter?" Tom Riddle was at his shoulder.

"No, nothing." Harry turned to go.

"You play Quidditch?"

"Yes, but I have no broom."

"I'll lend you mine," replied Riddle. "Just return it when you get a broom for yourself."

"Don't you want it?" Harry was surprised. He had no idea Tom Riddle owned a broomstick. 

"I'm not much of a Quidditch fan, and I don't really care for flying on a broom. Someday I'll find a way to fly without brooms."

"Then why did you buy it?" Asked Harry as they walked back to the dormitory. 

Riddle gave him a strange look. "Because it is not possible that I should not have it, Potter. I must have everything of the best."

Harry digested this in silence. "What does your father do?" He asked finally.

Riddle's lips thinned. "He's a muggle," he said briefly.

"You seem ashamed of him," observed Harry. 

"It's none of your business, Potter!" Snapped Riddle as he turned to face Harry. "Do not ask me personal questions. I do not like it."

Harry's heart was hammering, but he faced Riddle squarely. "I thought we were friends." 

Harry could see the struggle happening in the younger boy as he sought to control his anger. It was as if a shutter had fallen on his eyes as his face suddenly became smooth and impassive. "We are. But that does not mean I need to share every aspect of my life with you."

Harry acknowledged this with a nod. "I didn't know you did not want to talk about your family. I'm sorry."

Tom gave a gracious wave of his hand. "It's all right." He gave Harry a charming smile. "Tell me about your parents."

Harry shrugged, "They were murdered. So, I'm sure you'll understand why I prefer not to talk about them."

Riddle stopped and stared at Harry. "Murdered?"

Harry nodded.

"By whom?"

"A dark wizard," said Harry.

Riddle frowned. "One of Grindelwald's minions?"

"I do not know the details. Only that they were murdered using the Killing Curse."

"Then, it had to be a dark wizard." Tom gave Harry a curious glance. "Don't you even wish for revenge?"

Harry clenched his fists. Revenge? Of course he wanted revenge! He'd been contemplating nothing else since his arrival here. After all, what better way to ensure Tom Riddle did not become Lord Voldemort than to destroy him here, when he was still a student?

"I'd rather not talk about it," he said grimly.

Riddle did not press the matter further.


	29. Chapter 29

Ron was discharged from the hospital wing in the evening and he and Hermione decided to go for a walk before returning to the common room.

"I feel so suffocated there," Ron told her.

Hermione nodded. "I know. I feel the same." She shuddered. "I don't see this going well, Ron. I don't see what good we are doing."

"Nor do I," muttered Ron gloomily. "But how do we convince Harry?"

"We can't," she sighed. "But we've got to try. Otherwise, we would simply be wasting our time here when we could be back there doing something constructive about stopping him."

"Let's go back to the common room, now," said Ron. "Harry's alone there."

Hermione nodded and they walked back. Ron was frowning heavily. Not for the first time, he was cursing the impulse that had caused him to suggest to Harry the deception that had landed them in this mess. Did they think it was going to be that easy to make the darkest wizard who ever lived experience love? Did they really think stopping You-know-who was that easy? Ron could only wonder at their naïveté. He could now understand Professor Dumbledore's reluctance to let them do it.

What fools they were! What naive fools! Ron suddenly turned to Hermione, "Do you remember how You-know-who's father died?"

Hermione looked sick. "He killed him, Ron. He killed his father and his grandparents a few days after he came of age. As per wizarding law, all their wealth became his."

Ron nodded. "That's what I remember too. But he told Harry the night he came back that he killed his father and grandparents when he turned sixteen. Anyway, you said he became heir to the Riddle fortune after their death. But what about Muggle law? They were muggles, right?"

"His father had made a will leaving everything to him. So, by muggle law too, he was the heir."

Ron blanched. "So, by making his father take him in, we effectively signed the poor man's death warrant?"

Hermione shrugged. "He would have killed him anyway, judging by what he told Harry the night he came back. Your memory of that night would be of the time when Riddle spent his life in the orphanage."

"In that time, You-know-who would not have profited from his father's death," muttered Ron. "We just gave a budding dark lord, all the wealth he needs to fund his rise to power! He’s probably going to do it in half the time it took him last time!”

Hermione frowned. “As per your recollections, when did his rise to power start?”

“Ten, fifteen years before he tried to kill Harry. Why?”

Hermione was pale. "In our time, after you convinced Tom Riddle to take him in, he became powerful much before that. Hogwarts was safe, but most of the Order were in hiding. He deposed the ministry a week before he tried to kill Harry.”

"Merlin! We can't just go back!" muttered Ron. "We have to do something! If we can't change Riddle Jr, perhaps we can try to save Riddle Sr. I mean, that should change something, shouldn’t it?”

"But how?"

"I have no idea." But Ron's face was determined. "But I will find a way."


	30. Chapter 30

Tom started watching Potter surreptitiously. He was yet to figure out how Potter knew Parseltongue. It seemed quite impossible, and yet, he'd heard him. Besides, there was the fact that neither Potter nor his friends ever made eye contact with him. Which indicated that somehow they knew about how he used Legilimency on almost everyone around him. None of the others even suspected and these three new students just knew? Tom was no fool. They had knowledge of him, knowledge that they shouldn't be having. And that story about Potter's parents... There was something wrong about that. It was the only time Potter had ever looked him in the eye, and there had been no lie there. Yet, there was something wrong. Had a dark wizard made his appearance in Britain, the newspapers would have been full of it. And if any deaths had resulted, he would certainly have come to know of it.

Tom was interested in Grindelwald and he followed his career as avidly as he could. But he knew for a fact that due to some reason, Grindelwald feared Dumbledore and hence neither he nor his followers were much active in Britain. Of course, it was quite possible that Potter's parents were abroad when they were killed, but the murder of a British couple should also have made it to the papers. It was all very mysterious and Tom hated mysteries he could not solve. 

Potter and his friends had seemed nervous around him from the beginning, he remembered. Now, three new students being nervous around a Prefect might not be very odd, but there was more than nervousness in them. There seemed fear. And Tom could not for the world think why they should fear him. Of course, a day would come when people would fear even to speak his name, but that day, unfortunately, was still far off. 

And then there was the connection to Dumbledore. That in itself was suspicious because Tom had never trusted Dumbledore and never would. But even Dumbledore could not know about his plans. They were his! And he had never told anyone about them! The ones who followed his lead here only knew of his ultimate aim- to purify the wizarding world of all impure elements and to establish a society where wizards would hold dominion over muggles.

Grindelwald held aims similar to his own, and he seemed determined to bring wizards out of hiding. And Tom could empathise with that. They were far more powerful than any muggle. They should not have to hide at all! And yet, they were forced to. Why? What was the need for a statute of secrecy? What was the need for all those laws to protect muggles? Who cared about muggles? Wizarding laws should protect wizards, not muggles. Wizarding society had laws against werewolves, vampires, giants, Dementors and yet, they sought to protect muggles who were of far less use and had no magical abilities. The wizarding laws saw magical creatures as sub-human and muggles as human. How was that sensible? Muggles were no different from werewolves, contaminating everyone with their blood and their dirt and their stupid fears about things they don't understand. Because a group of beings so much beneath them as to be dust beneath their feet feared them, they decided to hide? Tom was furious at the very thought of it.

I will change all that, thought he. Of course, there was always the possibility that Grindelwald might succeed in doing it. Tom could not explain to himself the twinge of disappointment he felt at that thought. He wanted to be the one to do it.

But first, he had to solve the mystery of the new students. And he had no idea how to go about it


	31. Chapter 31

“He offered to let you use his broom for the Quidditch tryouts?” asked Ron, frowning. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Harry shrugged. “Believe me, no one was more surprised than I.”

“Perhaps he wants Slytherin to do well,” said Hermione. “And the present team is not doing great.”

“They are trash,” said Ron dismissively. The three of them were in a corner of the common room which was thankfully empty. “But how could he know Harry would be any better? It’s not as if he’d watched Harry play.”

“If the present team is trash as you say, then he probably feels anyone could be better,” said Hermione reasonably. 

Ron shook his head, but said nothing. He had a gut feeling something was wrong. What Hermione said was logical, if it was about anyone but Riddle. Somehow, Ron got the impression that getting house points for Slytherin was not on the top of Riddle’s agenda.

“I never thought a day would come when I’ll be playing for Slytherin,” said Harry with a shake of his head. “And you could try out for the keeper position too, you know.”

Ron shook his head. “I refuse to play for Slytherin, no matter what.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We don’t like it either, Ron. But we need to blend in.”

Ron shrugged. “They don’t know I play. So, it doesn’t matter, does it? I am blending in. And the way you are winning points for Slytherin, they’ll surely win the House Cup this year.”

“We are supposed to be happy with that,” reminded Hermione.

Ron sighed. He knew what he was supposed to do, but that did not mean he was happy about it. He hated Slytherin, really hated it. Hated everyone in the house, and now because of his stupidity, he was here, in Slytherin, having to pretend he was enjoying himself, whereas all he could feel was this fear that was suffocating him every second of the day. Fear for himself, for his friends, for their safety. And it intensified every time Tom Riddle talked to them or even looked at them.

“That’s it!” said he suddenly. How could they have been so stupid as not to realize it? They were going about it completely wrong. No wonder they were not making any headway.

“What?” asked Harry.

“Look,” said Ron. “We came here to try and befriend Riddle, right?”

“Yes, so?”

“The thing is, we are always too nervous around him. We are frightened of him. We are not being our natural selves. How can we make friends with him if we are not ourselves around him?”

Hermione looked impressed. “I never thought you were capable of such depths, Ron.” She said. “And you’re right. I mean, we have to be careful, but not to the extent that we can’t relax at all.”

“I don’t know if I can relax around him,” muttered Harry. “I mean, I know he’s not yet Voldemort and hasn’t hurt anyone yet. And he does not at all look anything like the monster he became, but-” he sighed as he lowered his head and put his hands on it. “He reminds me of the Riddle I met from the diary. I… I seem to be back in the Chamber of Secrets every time I see him.”

“Harry,” Hermione laid a comforting hand on his arm. “We can understand that. But we have to try. Otherwise, we might as well go home. There’s no point in staying here, risking our lives. We are behaving suspiciously. And Riddle is not unintelligent.”

Ron suppressed a snigger. Riddle was the most intelligent person he’d ever seen, and that was saying something considering he had been in the same class as Hermione from his first year at Hogwarts.


	32. Chapter 32

“Look at him, the oaf!” Harsh laughter followed the remark. Harry frowned as he looked at the group. They were the people who always hanged around Tom Riddle. There was Ralph McNair, a sixth year, who Harry assumed to be the uncle of Walden McNair, Samuel Bulstrode, a seventh year, Alexis Goyle, who was just as large and gormless as the Goyle who was in Harry’s year in his own time and a few others, none of whose names were familiar to Harry.

Harry heard an angry voice from the middle of the group, “Jus’ leave me,”

He froze. It couldn’t be… could it? There was only one way of making certain. He strode towards the group, wishing Ron and Hermione were with him. But he was on the way back from Quidditch practice and Ron and Hermione might be in the Great Hall.

The only ones who were not surprised at Harry’s selection to the team was Harry himself, Ron and Hermione. All the rest of the Slytherins seemed dumbfounded. And Harry’s popularity in the House had soared overnight. Riddle seemed quite enthusiastic, but Harry could see the speculation in his eyes. Though their interactions with Riddle were more natural these days, they were yet to break the barriers that he seemed to have erected around himself.

He pushed all that aside as he purposefully went to his Housemates and demanded, “What are you doing?”

McNair gave him a lazy glance. “Stay out of it, Potter. We’re just having some fun with a Gryffindor scum.”

Harry’s insides twisted as he saw the large boy who stood in their middle. Hagrid’s fists were clenched, his wand was on the ground and his clothes were torn and muddy. 

Harry pulled out his wand. “I suggest you leave him alone.”

“And what if we don’t, Potter?” asked a fifth year with narrowed eyes. “We don’t take orders from you!”

Harry was thinking fast. “I saw Professor Stone coming this way,” he said. “Now, if you want to get into trouble with the teachers, that’s your lookout.” He pocketed his wand and raised his hands. “I couldn’t care less who you pick on.”

“What’s going on here?” For the first time, Harry actually felt relieved to see Tom Riddle.

The group of Slytherins looked uncomfortable.

“Leave him,” commanded Riddle. “And come to the common room immediately if you don’t want me to report this.” He looked at Harry. “You too, Potter.”

With a contemptuous glance at Hagrid, Riddle walked off, followed by the rest of the Slytherins.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked. “Why were they attacking you?”

Hagrid shrugged. “They don’ like me. Why’re ye bein’ nice to me? They’ll pick on yer next.”

Harry picked up Hagrid’s wand and handed it over to him. “No, they won’t. You better get back to the Great Hall. What were you doing here anyway?”

“Had ter get somethin’,” muttered Hagrid, not meeting Harry’s eye. “I’ll be leavin’ then,”

“You do that,” said Harry as he too headed back to the school. He went to the Great Hall, to join Ron and Hermione and to get some much needed breakfast.


	33. Chapter 33

Tom sat next to Harry Potter in class. It was Potions and Slughorn had asked them to prepare a Befuddlement Draught. 

“You didn’t come to the common room,” said Tom.

Potter raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t see the necessity. I was just trying to stop them from doing something foolish.”

Tom assessed the other teen. “Foolish, it undoubtedly was. Yet, I could not see any reason for you to interfere.”

“They’re my housemates,” said Potter, head bent over his ingredients. “I did not want to see them get into trouble.”

Tom frowned. Potter sounded quite sincere. But it was not in Tom’s nature to trust blindly. He might choose to believe Potter if he looked him in the eye. Of course, that would also give Tom an opportunity to use Legilimency. But Potter seemed determined not to look him in the eye.

“It’s good to see you have imbibed the House spirit,” he remarked dryly.

Potter glanced at him. Tom felt distracted by the glasses, because that prevented him from seeing Potter’s eyes properly. It again occurred to him that Potter’s eyes were the exact same colour as the Slytherin colour of green. He had never seen that specific shade of green in a person’s eyes.

“I hope you’re not being sarcastic,” said Potter.

Tom chose not to answer, focusing on his potion instead of Potter. Potter had spirit. And courage. Tom had to grant it to him. But that did not mean Tom liked the way he talked to him. Tom was used to having his own way. Potter did not know just how much above him Tom was. And it bothered Tom that Potter and his friends either did not want to know or didn’t care.

Of course, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Granger was almost as good as him when it came to lessons. Every class was now a tussle between the two of them to see who will come on top. Since they both belonged to Slytherin, it was not a rivalry, yet. But Tom did not like it either. He was Tom Marvolo Riddle, the heir of Slytherin, and no one had any business competing with him. Granger had no business being as good as him and if she was not too careful, she might meet with something unpleasant one of these days.

Weasley, he discounted completely. He was Potter’s shadow, a complete nonentity. And the funny thing was, Potter was as utterly ordinary as it was possible to be. Why Weasley wanted to be a hanger-on of such a mediocre wizard was beyond Tom. Potter was fairly average in all his lessons, except in Potions and DADA. And even in those, he was not exceptional. He might scrape through an ‘E’ in them, but that was all.

Not that Tom was bothered about grades. He did not care how many OWLs he got. For him, the number of OWLs was for showing others. So, they would all believe that he was the best. He knew he was the best, but for those who needed proof, there would always be his OWLs. Tom had his future all mapped out. He knew who he wanted to be. And OWLs were not required for that. What was required was magical knowledge so deep and wide that no wizard before or since would ever be as great as him.

Keeping his head away from the fumes that rose from his potion, Tom wondered impatiently why he could not find the Chamber yet. Where was it hidden? How had his noble ancestor hidden it? Only the heir of Slytherin would be able to find it, he knew. Which meant him. 

His eyes strayed to Potter, stirring his cauldron. Potter knew Parseltongue. Potter was in Slytherin. Was Potter a descendant of Slytherin too? And if he was, then was it going to be him who found the chamber of secrets? Riddle’s hand clenched around his ladle. He would ensure that Potter never even learned of the Chamber. He would be the one to find it. He would unleash whatever was within and rid the school of all mud bloods and half-bloods, himself excepted. And perhaps he would get rid of Potter and his friends too, just to be safe.

Lost in thought, Tom forgot to turn his face away from the fumes of the Befuddlement Draught coming from his own cauldron and breathed them in without noticing.


	34. Chapter 34

Harry saw Tom Riddle sway over his cauldron and with a muttered oath, he caught the younger teen before he fell.

“What’s happening?” Slughorn was there in a trice.

“I think he breathed in the fumes.”

Slughorn tut-tutted, and said, “You better take him back to the dormitory, Potter. The effects should wear off in an hour or so. If he’d ingested it, then we would have been in trouble. But since it’s only the fumes, he just needs to stay away from everybody for a while.”

“Is he dangerous?” asked Harry, wondering what exactly the effects were that might wear off in an hour.

“Oh, no. He might be a bit confused and not very lucid. He might be a bit dangerous to himself. Might be. Of course, the effects vary depending on the wizard’s metabolism. It is similar to the muggles getting drunk.”

Harry had no idea about what muggles did when they got drunk. Uncle Vernon, for all his faults, never got drunk and there were no drunks in Privet Drive. His only experience of drunk people was what he saw on TV.

“You better stay with him till he’s back to normal. You have History of Magic next, right? I’ll tell Professor Binns.”

That was not too bad, thought Harry, as he half-carried, half-led Riddle to the dormitory. Being alive had not made Binns’ teaching of History of Magic any less boring. Ron and Harry had spent every lesson fighting sleep. 

“Potter,” muttered Riddle suddenly. “How do you know Parseltongue?”

“I don’t,” the lie was automatic.

“Liar. I heard you speaking in Parseltongue. How do you know that?” Riddle straightened and looked balefully at Harry.

“Look, we need to get to the common room and then I’ll tell you.”

Riddle nodded and started walking towards the common room. They reached the Slytherin Common Room and Riddle muttered, “Why do I have this headache, Potter? Did you curse me?”

“No, Riddle. You breathed in the fumes of the Befuddling Draught you were brewing.”

“Impossible!”

Harry shook his head. “Look, I am not baby-sitting you because I want to. Come up to the dormitory and stay there till the effects wear off.”

Riddle looked at him belligerently. Harry wondered if this was the effect of the potion, that it made Riddle aggressive and made him reveal his true self. Then Riddle nodded and Harry helped him to the Dormitory.

Riddle lay down on his bed. “I never knew the fumes could do this,” he muttered. “It’s interesting. I feel light headed and angry and weak and have a headache.”

Harry sat on the edge of the bed. “Professor Slughorn said the effects depend on your metabolism. It’s like muggles getting drunk.”

Riddle grimaced. “I have seen enough of that, thanks to the orphanage and my father’s servants.”

“The orphanage?”

Riddle grimaced. “I was living in an orphanage till I was six. Which was when my father came for me. Apparently it took him six years to remember he had a son!”

“Maybe he did not know,” said Harry gently.

“How could a man have a child and not know it?” Demanded Riddle. 

“How was it there, in the orphanage?” Harry asked, more to change the subject than anything.

Riddle’s face twisted. “Grim. I was hungry most of the time. And alone…. So alone. They all feared me… and I did not know what I was… I was never beaten, but I was bullied for a while till they realized that I was able to fight back, though not physically.” He paused. “And the matron…” he grimaced. “She used to drink a lot… the stink of it… she didn’t hit me or anything, but her tongue got quite vicious when she was drunk…. She didn’t fear me, not as the children did…. She was… nervous… she couldn’t explain how I did what I did.”

“You used magic on them.”

“I could control it, even then. And I hurt them, Potter. I hurt them for hurting me, for isolating me, for stealing my food. I stole their possessions in return and none of them even suspected!”

“And then your father came.”

“He is a muggle. He abandoned my mother when he learned she was a witch, though he knew she was pregnant. That is the answer to your question, Potter. He knew of my existence and never bothered.”

“Maybe he was searching for you.”

Riddle snorted. “He is a rich man, Potter. If he was looking for me, he would have found me. No, something happened, something that made him come for me. I still don’t know what it is, but I’ll figure it out one day.”

“I think you should stop talking, Riddle,” said Harry. He had seen on TV, people spilling their guts to others while drunk. It looked as if Riddle reacted the same way.

“I can’t,” said Riddle. “And oddly, I do not want to. You don’t know how difficult it is to keep all this in you. All my hatred, all my anger, all my ambition…. No one knows me, Potter. No one. And even you, who are listening, have no idea who I am.”

“What is your ambition, Tom?” Harry asked, using Riddle’s first name.

“To be rid of that filthy name! To be rid of this filthy shell! To be powerful enough to conquer death! To be so powerful that people would tremble at the sound of my name! They would fear to speak it!” He gave a mirthless smile. “Whoever trembled at a name like Tom? It is so ordinary.”

“I see. Why do you want to be powerful? Why do you want to be feared?”

“I just do, Potter. I like to see people bowing before me. I like having the power to decide their lives and deaths. I like seeing them cower before me. And of course, I want the muggles to be where they deserve to be.”

“And where is that?”

“Underneath our feet! To be trodden into the mud!”

“They’re not animals, Tom.”

“They’re worse! Even werewolves have some use. They inspire fear. But muggles…. They inspire nothing but contempt.”

“Even your father?”

“I am not a sentimental person, Potter. My father is useful to me. That is all.”

Harry stared, stunned at the younger boy. On the face of Riddle’s barefaced confession, their mission seemed ridiculous. How were they ever to reclaim someone like this? Was that even possible? 

Harry saw Riddle’s cold eyes on him, and he shivered. 

“What are you hiding from me, Potter? I know you are hiding something. And I will find out.”

He leaned forward and Harry was unable to look away. “Tell me the truth Potter,” he whispered. “How do you speak Parseltongue?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry. “I’ve always been able to do it. I don’t know why or how.”

Riddle’s eyes bore into his and Harry desperately tried to empty his mind of thought. Either it worked or Riddle was unable to do Legilimency properly because he lay down again, seemingly satisfied.

“You cannot keep anything from me, Potter,” he boasted. “I’ll find out. I always find out the truth.”

Harry swallowed. He hoped not. But looking at Riddle, all he wanted to do was to run.


	35. Chapter 35

Tom thought it was the perfect plan. Potter was out in the Quidditch pitch for the match and Weasley and Granger were there to watch him. Almost the entire school was there. This was the perfect opportunity for Tom to go through their trunks. He’d told one of his followers, a fourth year named Myra Layton to bring Granger’s trunk to the common room. 

He had decided to do this after the incident with the potion. He had spilled his guts to Potter. Potter, of all people! That made it imperative that he find out what Potter was hiding. And he’d come up with the plan to search Potter’s trunk and that of his friends.

He had sent everyone out and had posted Layton and McNair as lookouts. He rummaged through the trunks, and found nothing. Weasley’s trunk had an odd looking coin and Granger’s contained nothing suspicious. He packed both by magic and sent them back to the dormitories. Potter’s he had left for the last. 

He started removing items from Potter’s trunk. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except shards of a mirror which coated the very bottom and a particularly large piece which seemed to have escaped destruction. He stared at it frowning. What was so special about a broken mirror?

There was nothing remarkable about the robes either. Just ordinary wizarding robes. He pulled out a leather bound book from inside the trunk which contained pictures of a wizard and witch. The wizard looked almost exactly like Potter and the woman had his eyes. Obviously his parents. But the curious thing was there was not a single picture of the three of them together after a couple of pictures of Potter as a baby. He frowned. That was an odd circumstance. The pictures themselves were another matter. They were in full colour, for one thing. Tom had never seen colour photographs before. He was not even sure such a thing existed.

He laid the book aside and started rummaging through Potter’s school books. All the usual books were there, but there was also a very old and battered copy of Advanced Potion Making which Tom knew was not part of their school books. Perhaps, this was what Potter’s parents used to homeschool him. If so, it was no wonder he seemed so good at potions. But it still did not explain the condition of the book. The book was published only the previous year and the copies in Hogwarts library were all in pristine condition, as opposed to this one which looked to be at least fifty years old.

Tom rifled through the book. It held notes and scribblings. He frowned as he noticed there was no name on the fly leaf. He checked the last page. There was only a single line:

“This book is the property of The Half-Blood Prince.”

Tom sat back, considering. There was only one plausible explanation that explained the condition of the book, the odd coin in Weasley’s trunk and the colour photographs in Potter’s book. But that explanation was not only improbable, but highly impossible as well. Not to speak of fantastic. And yet, nothing else covered the facts that were before him.

But how did Dumbledore fit into all this? Tom suddenly remembered something and he again pulled the book of photographs towards him, rifling through it till he reached a particular page. He cast a magnifying spell on the photograph and there it was, the confirmation of his suspicions. The photograph was taken during the wedding of Potter’s parents, and there in the background was a man who was unmistakably Albus Dumbledore, a much older Albus Dumbledore.

Tom waved his wand and all the stuff packed themselves in the trunk. With a flick of his wand, the trunk was back under Potter’s bed. Tom rose shakily. It was impossible, yet, he was certain of it now.

Potter and his friends were from the future.


	36. Chapter 36

Tom would have preferred to stay in Hogwarts this Christmas, particularly in light of the fact that Potter and his friends were staying. He had not yet confronted Potter about what he learned, and the holidays when the dormitories were mostly empty would have been the perfect opportunity to do so. But his father had refused to let him stay at Hogwarts, insisting that he spend Christmas with his family.

His family! Tom's lips twisted in contempt. Three filthy muggles! And his father had actually demanded he spend Christmas with them! How foolish could that man get? And yet, Tom remembered the orphanage all too well. His father had to be humoured. What if he dumped him back into the orphanage?

He still grumbled when he met his father at the station. 

"It's really fun there during Christmas," he said. "And all my friends were staying."

"Tom, Christmas is a time for family." His father said. "Besides you know your grandparents are getting on in years. Let's at least spend this time with them."

"As if they give a damn about me," muttered Tom. "Didn't grandpa tell you to take me right back to the orphanage when you brought me home?"

"Tom, that was so long ago. How come you still remember all that?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I'm a freak! That's what he called me after I got my Hogwarts letter, wasn't it?"

"Were you eavesdropping, Tom?"

"I didn't have to. He wasn't exactly keeping his voice down, was he?"

"Look," his father said. "Grandpa has some antiquated ideas and beliefs. That doesn't mean he doesn't care for you or us."

"You mean, he doesn't wish for a different grandson?"

"He might wish for a different grandson, but I have no wish for a different son."

Tom said nothing. Normally, his father's words did nothing to him. But today, he felt as if something was squeezing his chest.

"All right," said he. "But don't use grandpa as an excuse for making me come home for Christmas."

His father sighed. "I wanted you home for Christmas. Is that so difficult for you to comprehend?"

Tom shrugged. "I am here. Let's not discuss this anymore."

His father gave him a rather anxious glance but was silent.


	37. Chapter 37

Tom looked at his uncle. "This is a brooch," said he. 

Morfin waved his hand. "That was your mum's. Thought you might like it. Don't think that muggle father of yours have anything of hers!"

"No," said Tom. "He doesn't. Thank you."

He held out his own present. "Merry Christmas, uncle."

Morfin tore out the wrapping paper and took out the bottle inside, opening it and giving it a sniff.

"Good stuff," said he, before taking a swig, straight from the bottle.

"You're welcome," muttered Tom as he went out of the shack. The brooch looked fairly ordinary. But it also looked familiar. It was dull and tarnished, though Morfin had apparently made an effort to clean it up to give him. He turned it over in his hand. It looked very, very familiar.

Then it came to him. He had seen it in Potter's trunk. But it was shining and not tarnished, but otherwise exactly the same. Tom frowned. What was this brooch doing in Potter's trunk? And how did it become like new? If his theory about Potter and his friends were true, the brooch should have looked even more battered. 

He wished he could use magic. There was this useful little spell he'd invented that allowed one to know if an object was magical or not. But any magic here, and he'd be getting a warning from the Ministry before he could say Jack Robinson. And Tom knew that he had to keep his nose clean. He needed a clean record at school. 

But, there was another possibility. He turned back to look at Morfin's house. That was a wizard's dwelling. And magic in there would not attract the ministry's attention. And if he knew his uncle, the man would have finished that bottle of Firewhiskey by now and would be snoring away in drunken stupor.

He went into the shack, pushing open the door that Morfin had not bothered to lock. Morfin was on the couch, snoring away, the empty bottle on the floor near his hand that was dangling off the edge of the couch. 

Tom went to the upstairs bedroom that had once belonged to his mother. Not that he was sentimental about it, but it was the only room in the house that did not stink of stale Firewhiskey. Of course, the room was just as dirty and dusty as the rest of the house. He took out his wand and performed a cleaning spell, wrinkling his face in distaste. Whoever heard of a dark lord performing a cleaning spell?

He took out the brooch from his pocket and laid it on the bed. He placed his wand-tip to it and whispered the spell.

The jolt of magic he got from the brooch knocked him back and he landed heavily on the floor, staring at it. A powerful magical artefact! He smiled. It was the best Christmas present. 

But it still did not explain what the brooch did or how Potter got it. But Tom was not daunted. He did have a book at home, one he'd taken from the Hogwarts library just before the holidays. Christmas time at the Riddle Mansion was always stiff and formal and boring. Tom just needed something to pass his time. And a book on magical artefacts had seemed just the thing. Now that he thought of it, he did remember seeing something like this brooch when he rifled through it. 

He was grinning like an idiot when he went out of his uncle's house, the brooch in his pocket.


	38. Chapter 38

Tom read through the entry twice and laid the brooch down near the picture in the book before he could believe it. The Transtemporal! That was what it was. The artefact was believed to be pure myth, just like the Chamber of Secrets. But obviously it was as real as the chamber. The book only held a drawing of the device, one which was taken from a record left by its creators, who were the founders of Hogwarts. Tom placed it on its palm. This was created by the founders of Hogwarts! And it belonged to him now!

He frowned as he thought of the device in Potter's possession. That might have been how Potter travelled to this time. But that did not explain why the device looked so new, almost pristine. It also did not explain how it came into Potter's possession. It was not Potter's. Then how did Potter get it?

He knew there was only one way of finding out. He had to go to the future. But without knowing the year from which Potter came, how could he just go? Somehow, he did not think Potter was not going to tell him, not unless he did something drastic, and Tom was no fool. He was not going to jeopardize all his plans just to get information on Potter. 

He examined the device. It could be activated by magic. The setting of the time was through a spell. The book had the spell too and Tom was thoughtful as he read it. A few modifications to the basic spell could take him to Potter's time. Instead of a specific year, he could add "the year from which Harry Potter came". Of course, it would make the spell quite long. But for this once, he did not mind it. 

He would need to return to Morfin's house again, to do the spell. And he knew it was almost morning. His father would be looking for him. It was Christmas morning after all. He grimaced. He would need to go downstairs and pretend to be excited about the tree and all the trimmings and the trashy muggle stuff his father got him every year. 

He pushed the brooch into his pocket and closed the book, yawning. He needed to sleep. His father, fortunately, never allowed anyone to wake him. He could go down whenever he wanted, even on Christmas day. He pulled the covers over him, yawning. He would need to learn that spell by heart before slipping off to see his uncle in the night again. And he could take him another bottle of Firewhiskey. He had a whole case of it. 

He fell asleep, dreaming about brooches and travelling through time on a winged horse.


	39. Chapter 39

Tom landed heavily on to the floor. Time travel through the Transtemporal was certainly not pleasant. He looked around himself. He was still in the Gaunt shack, but the place was empty and was almost falling to pieces. It looked like no one had lived there for a long, long time. He wondered what happened to Morfin. He couldn't be dead already. It was normal for wizards to live for a hundred of years and more with no diminution in health or faculties. And surely, Potter couldn't be from that far off in the future?

He shrugged as he exited the building. There was no point in staying there. The spell was cast and the magic activated. He need only speak his name for the device to take him back. He looked around with interest. It was night and there was a street lamp which was brighter than the one he remembered. It looked completely different in fact. He shrugged and made his way to his home. Obviously, muggles have found ways to improve a street lamp.

His steps slowed as he reached the house. It looked derelict, neglected, almost a ruin. How could that be possible? Even if his father and grandparents were dead, surely his future self ought to be here? It stood to reason that his father and grandparents were dead. Muggles never lived as long as wizards. And they aged faster too. But what happened to him? His future self?

He walked almost in a trance to the graveyard. He had to know. Standing and staring at the house was not going to bring any answers. His feet dragged, but he forced himself to walk into the graveyard. He checked each headstone, a difficult feat with only the moon to light him. He did not dare risk even a lumos in this time.

He stopped at one of the stones. "Thomas Riddle" it read and the date of death was January 1944. Tom felt cold. That was only a year later. Not that he was fond of his grandfather. But to know he would be gone within a year was a shock.

He moved to the next tombstone. "Mary Riddle." The date of death was the same. He frowned. How was that even possible?

He felt his breath leave his lungs as he read the inscription on the next headstone. "Tom Riddle." And the date of death was the same as the other two. 

How could his father and grandparents all die on the same day? Were they involved in an accident? Perhaps, a burglar entered the mansion and killed them? Judging by the date, it was after the Christmas holidays, so he was probably still at school. 

He swallowed. He needed to get back to his own times. And then he needed to come back to this time in future at a location where he could get some answers. He could of course reset the spell parameters to take him to January 1944, but somehow he felt that the real answers he sought lay in this time, though not at this place. He needed to find somewhere where he could get his hands on a book or a newspaper. Somewhere in Diagon Alley, perhaps.

His father generally bought him some muggle gift for Christmas, but he was allowed to choose his own gift for his birthday. He would tell his father to take him Christmas shopping to London tomorrow. He would go to Diagon Alley. From there he could go to the future again, and hopefully he would find some answers.


	40. Chapter 40

Diagon Alley looked nothing like it did in his time. There were far more shops for one. The crowds were a lot more too, though all of them looked scared and anxious. Many shops were boarded up, he noticed. Gringotts looked the same which reminded him that he would need to change the muggle money he had. He put his hand in his pocket to find that the muggle money had automatically changed to wizarding money. It seemed the Transtemporal changed the possessions on their person to suit the times. His clothes were different too, the robes were more or less the same, but the muggle clothing he wore underneath had changed. 

A shop caught his attention, "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." Had it anything to do with Ron Weasley? Tom hurried into the shop. The shop was full of customers and he could see that two red headed men were at the counters, attending to the customers and directing the assistants at the same time. Obviously, the owners. Tom sighed. It would be impossible to learn what he wanted to in this crowd. It seemed to be a joke shop, anyway and Tom pulled a face. 

As he exited the shop, a wizard standing at the corner thrust a purple leaflet into his hands which he took automatically. He glanced through it. Death Eaters? What sort of a name was Death Eaters? It was sort of frightening, but was so patent. It left nothing to the imagination. He wondered which idiot was leading this organization and who thought up this stupid name. 

A man at another the corner was selling newspapers and Tom bought one. The front page contained Ministry assurances to the populace and some news about deaths of some people Tom had never heard of. The year caught his attention. It was March 1997. He was fifty four years into the future! He skimmed through the newspaper and the heading of a letter in the letters to the editor column caught his eye. "All support to Harry Potter," was the title. Tom was not even happy to see that confirmation. He would have been greatly surprised had his hypothesis proved wrong.

The letter contained nothing of interest, but it referred to an issue of the newspaper which seemed to have contained Potter's life story. Tom went back to the man to check if he had any back issues and was directed to a nearby shop.

The shopkeeper gave him the back issue. He found the story on Potter. But he really could not figure out who this dark wizard who the newspaper described cryptically as You-know-who was. The story about Potter's parents was true, at least. Except that they had been killed when he was one. There was nothing about Potter's life for the next ten years, just one sentence that he was living with his muggle relatives. Then there was an account of his life at Hogwarts, of him as the Triwizard Champion (Tom had to read this part twice- they reinstituted the Triwizard Cup- really?) before he believed it. It seemed Potter was either a highly accident prone boy who survived dangerous situations due to luck, help and a moderate amount of talent, or he went out of his way to find trouble and got out by dint of pure dumb luck.

But still, there was nothing about You-know-who. Tom turned to the shop keeper.

"I've been out of the country for a while," he said. "Could I have some more material on this Harry Potter and You-know-who?"

The man gave him a surly look, before bringing a stack of old newspapers to him. 

"Read 'em an' leave 'em," he said.

Tom nodded.


	41. Chapter 41

Harry was flung across the room and he crashed into the wall. Riddle was advancing on him, wand outstretched, a look of demented fury on his face. 

"What the hell!" Ron never got his wand out as Riddle flicked his wand in his direction and Ron crumpled to the ground. Hermione too fell, Riddle's stunner catching her squarely on the chest. Riddle flicked his wand and ropes formed out of thin air to bind the two. He turned to Harry.

"Up, Potter."

Harry rose, cautiously, wondering what was going on. Riddle had come back early from his holidays. He wasn't supposed to be here for another two days. Harry wondered what happened during the holidays to provoke this attack. Had Riddle discovered that it was Ron and Harry who had told his father about his existence? But how could he have?

"To the dormitory," said Riddle, his voice throbbing with anger. "And keep your hands where I can see them."

Harry lifted his hands and walked to the dormitory, Riddle's wand on the small of his back. He heard the dormitory door close and the lock click. 

"Turn around," said Riddle.

Harry turned around.

"I told you I would find out the truth, Potter. I warned you not to lie to me."

Harry said nothing. Riddle's wand was on his chest. And his hand was rock steady now. His fury appeared to have spent itself. His eyes were narrowed now.

"I know who you are, Potter. I know the truth about you."

Harry again remained silent. Riddle's wand tip was digging painfully into his chest now. 

"You are from the future. From the year 1997. And you came here to kill me. You came here for revenge, Potter! I am the dark wizard who killed your parents!"

"Yes," said Harry. He didn't know how Riddle found out, and it didn't matter anyway. They had failed. And now, he had to find a way to get out of this situation alive, with his friends. 

"We are from the future, from 1997, and yes, you are the one who killed my parents, but we did not come here to kill you. I am not here for revenge, Riddle."

"Don't lie to me, Potter!"

"I'm not lying! Look into my eyes, you'll see I'm telling the truth! Besides, if I wanted to kill you, I could have done it that day, when you were incapacitated by the Befuddling draught!"

Harry prayed Riddle believe him. It would really be ironic if after all their lies were believed, Riddle would refuse to believe the truth.

"How do you speak Parseltongue?"

"You..." Harry paused. "The future you... put a bit of himself into me when he gave me my scar."

Riddle's eyes shifted to the scar. "What does it do?"

"It hurts a lot when Voldemort is near." Harry did not want to say "you" anymore. This Riddle before him wasn't Voldemort yet. "And it hurts when he's angry or feeling any strong emotion."

"And you have some of his powers in you."

Harry shook his head. "Only the ability to speak to snakes, as far as I know."

"Strange behaviour for a curse scar."

"I don't know. I am no expert."

"Tell me why you are here. The truth, Potter."

Harry drew a deep breath. He was only now beginning to appreciate how ridiculous their mission was. As ridiculous as his story was going to sound. 

Riddle did not interrupt him at any point. He was staring at Harry a bit oddly by the time he finished. Then he lowered his wand and walked away, laughing.

"You came here to save me?" He laughed. "You really have a saving-people-thing, don't you Potter?"

Harry winced, hearing an echo of Hermione's words to him last year just before he'd set out on that disastrous attempt to rescue Sirius; the attempt that had, ironically, led to Sirius' death. 

"Has it ever occurred to you, Potter that I do not require saving?"

"That's because of your mother's spell on you," Harry did not know what made him say it. 

Riddle gave him a speculative glance. "You really believe that? Of course you do. Very, very, foolish, Potter. But you did do me a favour when you convinced my father about my existence."

"He believed he wasn't able to have a child, Riddle. Otherwise, he would never have abandoned your mother in spite of how she treated him."

"How she treated him?" Riddle sounded incredulous.

"You're unbelievable!" Harry snorted. "She all but raped him, Riddle! You honestly think he enjoyed it? She took away his will and he married her not out of choice but out of compulsion! But of course, it doesn't matter to you, does it, because he's only a muggle! A muggle who faces his demons and the worst nightmares of his life every time he steps on to platform nine-and-three-quarters to bid you goodbye. You think that's easy for him? But what do you care?"

"Enough!" Riddle's tone was dangerous. "I told you, Potter, I don't like talking about my father."

"Why? Because you're already planning to kill him?"

"That's enough!" Riddle's wand was again on his chest and Harry cursed himself for not disarming Riddle before. His own wand was still in his pocket. It seemed he never learned.

"Explain that statement, Potter."

"Which one?"

"About my father. You said I'm planning to kill him. He was killed by my uncle, Morfin. He killed my father and my grandparents and he died in prison!"

"No, Riddle. You killed them. You framed your uncle."

"I was in Hogwarts at the time. Or would be."

"Yes. But you sneaked out of the castle, apparated to Little Hangleton, stole your uncle's wand, killed them all and planted a false memory in your uncle before apparating back and sneaking back in."

Riddle bared his teeth in a snarl. "What is to prevent me from killing you here and now, Potter?"

"This," said Harry as he kneed Riddle in the groin and whipped out his wand. 

"Petrificus Totalus!" He bellowed before Riddle could straighten and Riddle fell on to the floor, stiff. Harry was breathing hard as if he had run a race. 

"Your father loved you enough to let you come to Hogwarts in spite of what your mother did to him, and you killed him! You don't deserve a father, Riddle! You only deserve that orphanage where your mother put you because she didn't love you enough even to fight for her life! But you know, what? I'm done with you and with trying to save you!"

Harry pulled out his trunk. He was furious. He grabbed it and Ron's too. Then he noticed that his device was on the floor, next to Riddle. It looked all tarnished and old, he wondered if being in the past did it. He picked it up and walked out of the dormitory. He would get his friends and they would go back.


	42. Chapter 42

"We can't just go back, Harry!" Said Ron as soon as they were out of the common room. "We need to find a way to warn his father!"

Harry frowned. "All right," he said. "You both know how to apparate, right?"

Hermione nodded. "I can take you both with me. But we can't-"

"We'll go to Hogsmeade," said Harry. "I hope that passageway under the one eyed witch is there."

It was. They got into Hogsmeade without much trouble and Hermione apparated them all into Little Hangleton.

"Would Riddle follow us?" Asked Ron.

"He might guess what we're about to do. But he hasn't learned to apparate yet." Said Harry grimly.

"Do you think his father will believe us?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know," muttered Ron. "But we have to tell him, to warn him. We owe it to him. If not for us, he would not have taken You-know-who in."

"You-know-who would have killed him anyway, Ron," said Hermione.

Harry paused in his stride. Hermione was right, but there was more at stake now. 

"He would have, but he has more to gain from his father's death now. And... getting killed by a stranger and getting killed by the son you love is not the same."

Hermione nodded. "Let's do it then,"

Tom Riddle recognized Harry and Ron, inviting them in, and offering them refreshments which they politely declined.

"Mr. Riddle," said Harry. "We need to tell you something important. It might sound unbelievable, but it is true."

The smile on the elder's Riddle's face faded. "What is it?"

"A year from now, your son is going to kill you and your parents." Said Ron. "You've to believe us!"

Riddle stood up. "Get out of my house!" Said he.

They stood their ground.

"Mr. Riddle, as per wizarding law, Tom comes of age at seventeen. He would be legally able to possess property. He would kill you," said Hermione. "Unless you change your will in both worlds to ensure that he won't get anything if you were to die in mysterious circumstances."

"Get out," said Riddle, shoving Harry and Ron. He looked furious. "Get out before I call the police!"

They looked at each other, and went out.

"That went well," muttered Harry as the door to the house was slammed behind them.

"At least we tried," said Hermione.

"Do you think he will at least think about what we said?" Asked Ron.

"Let's hope," said Hermione.

"We should never have come," said Harry. 

"Harry?"

"We should never have come to the past. Professor Dumbledore was right. We should never have meddled in time. Nothing changed! Nothing can change!"

"Actually, I did read that unlike time turners, the Transtemporal actually affects the fabric of time. Which means that with this device, time could actually be changed." Hermione paused. "But we altered it in unintended ways, Harry."

Harry nodded. "It doesn't matter, now. We have to put this behind us. I am done with all this. I'll give the device to Professor Dumbledore and tell him to keep it in the museum. And then I'll do everything I can to stop Voldemort. And the first thing to do is to get that memory from Slughorn."

"We'll be with you, Harry," said Ron. "Whatever you have to do, we'll help."

Hermione nodded. Harry smiled at his friends. They gripped each other's hands. Then Harry took out the device from his pocket, frowning that it was again shiny and new. With Ron and Hermione holding on to him, he activated the magic and felt Little Hangleton disappear around them.

They were back in their dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. It was night and judging by the snores, everyone was sound asleep. Harry and Ron undressed in the dark and Harry put the device on the nightstand. He frowned as he felt something in his pocket. He took it out and found that it was the device that he'd taken from the floor of the Slytherin dormitory. It was dull and tarnished. Harry went cold suddenly. He now knew how Riddle knew about them. He probably went to the future using this. Harry could only be grateful for the happy chance that made it fall out of Riddle's pocket. If it hadn't, it would still be with Riddle and Merlin knew what havoc he could have caused with it.

He put Riddle's device next to his own and was surprised when Riddle's device glowed for a brief moment before disappearing. He took off his glasses, put it on the nightstand and went to bed. Ron was already in his own bed.

"Good night Harry," he whispered.

"Good night Ron," Harry whispered back.

In the morning, he would go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him everything. He would bend all his energies to retrieving that memory from Professor Slughorn. He might have failed when he attempted to help Merope's ghost and Tom Riddle. But he would not fail in his most important task. He would stop Voldemort. Whatever happened, he would not fail in that task.

After all, he had all the time in the world now, with a device that could alter the fabric of time itself. He yawned and smiled. He didn't need time. He would hand in that device to Professor Dumbledore. He would not meddle in time again; the present was all he needed.


	43. Chapter 43

Harry woke early. He did not want to stay in bed, so he rose. He went to the window and glanced out. The sun had not yet risen, but there was the faint grey light of pre-dawn, bathing the castle. Harry was feeling quite depressed. For all his resolutions of the previous night, their failure did affect him deeply.

He knew that he had to get over it. Brooding over it and wondering what they could have done differently was not going to help. They had failed. End of story. It was time to put it behind them. 

He pressed his forehead to the windowpane. He wondered if Dumbledore was going to be disappointed in him. After all, he had been opposed to this plan and only on Harry’s insistence had he allowed this plan. Months of persuasion was what finally made Dumbledore relent and agree, and that too when he realized that Harry had his heart set on this course and nothing was going to take his mind off it.

And yet, at the end of it, Dumbledore had proved right. He had only made things worse. He only wished he could set things to right now.

Ron grunted and Harry turned from the window. Ron sighed in sleep. Harry turned back to the window, when his own reflection caught his eye. For a moment, he did not realize what he was seeing. Then he raised his hand and touched his forehead. 

His heart rate and breathing sped up. What did this mean? He went to Ron's bed and shook him.

"Ron! Wake up!"

"Wazzup, Harry?" Ron asked groggily as he opened one bleary eye.

"Ron. My scar! It's gone!"

Ron opened both his eyes. "Blimey! You're right, Harry! It's gone! Does this mean we've succeeded?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Riddle knew his powers broke when he attacked me. I didn't tell him how. So, he doesn't know it was because of my mother's sacrifice. He knew Voldemort had to spend twelve years as less than spirit." He paused. "If you had that kind of knowledge, what would you do?"

"I would not attack you," said Ron. "Merlin! That ought to mean that he never went away. That the war is still going on. That it started before our births!"

Harry nodded. The scenario Ron described might be the true one. And that meant that his parents were alive and he was free from the burden of the prophecy. But it did not change the fact that Voldemort was still out there, and had to be stopped. 

Of course, the absence of the scar might mean that they had somehow been successful, that Tom Riddle did not become Voldemort. But Harry did not believe that. There was nothing about the Tom Riddle they knew that could suggest such a possibility. 

He and Ron dressed in silence and went down to the common room. They needed to talk in private. And they needed to talk to Hermione. It was not possible for anyone to be up this early, so they were guaranteed some privacy.

But no sooner had they reached the common room than the portrait hole opened and a man came in. 

"Sirius!" Exclaimed Harry, feeling as if his heart would burst with emotion. Of course, Sirius was alive. If Voldemort never attacked his parents, it meant Sirius never had to go to Azkaban. He was not a fugitive. And he was alive.

"Hey," Sirius grinned at Harry. "How're you doing Ron? All ready for the test?" 

"Test?" Ron croaked.

"Your apparition test. It's today, isn't it?"

"Yes..." Ron sat down. "Somehow, I'm not feeling too good."

Sirius laughed. "It's nerves. It'll pass. Where's Hermione?"

"She'll be down soon, I think," said Harry, who was gazing rather hard at the robes Sirius was wearing. It stuck him that he'd seen similar robes on Dawlish and Kingsley last year when they came to arrest Dumbledore last year. Did that mean Sirius was an Auror in this time?

"What are you doing here anyway?" Harry asked.

"Security detail for the minister."

"The minister?"

"The Minister for Magic? Don't tell me you forgot he requested for a private meeting with you today?"

"Oh that," said Harry, giving Ron a "what-the-hell-is-going-on" look.

"Yes, that. And your parents have expressly charged me with seeing that you are all spruced up and wearing your best robes."

"When is he coming?" Asked Harry. What did Scrimgeour want with him? He remembered their meeting during Christmas. Of course, that meeting might not have happened in this time. Scrimgeour might not even be the Minister.

"After, your friends have departed for their test. So you have plenty of time. I just came to see if you were up. See you in the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry."

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

"What was that all about?" Asked Harry.

"I have no idea. And Harry? Am I really having my apparition test today?"


	44. Chapter 44

There was hardly any time to fill in Hermione on the details, but between them, Harry and Ron managed to fill in all the essential details. Hermione was surprised Ron had forgotten it was their apparition test. 

"Professor Dumbledore sent us back the night before the test, don't you remember?"

Ron shook his head. "No, I don't. I mean, we spent months away, Hermione. How do you expect me to remember?"

"We did not spend months away, Ron. Not really."

"I'm not arguing the finer points of time travel," said Ron. "I don't know how I'm going to apparate."

"You'll do fine," said Hermione. "Just relax, okay?"

Harry suddenly remembered something. "Hermione," said he. "Voldemort overthrew the ministry before he attacked me, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Then, who is the minister of magic now?"

"You mean.. it could be someone in Voldemort's inner circle? Or even Voldemort? But... that can't be Harry. Dumbledore wouldn't allow a dark wizard to visit you in Hogwarts, would he? And your parents wouldn't allow you to meet him, would they? And would Sirius be protecting a dark wizard who overthrew the ministry?"

"Perhaps, they don't know yet. Perhaps the minister is under the Imperius," suggested Ron.

"I don't know, Ron. It is possible, but you can only keep a man under Imperius for so long before they begin to fight it. Remember Barty Crouch's story?"

"Maybe he didn't overthrow the ministry?" Asked Harry.

"That is also quite possible. But... be careful, Harry. I was so worried about the test that I did not read the history books to know if our time travel has had any repercussions in the future." 

There was no time for further private conversation as they reached the Great Hall. Harry noticed that Sirius was sitting between Remus and Snape. There seemed to be something different about Snape too. He appeared more relaxed and smiling. Tonks was also there, sitting on the other side of Remus, her hair a dark green today. All four appear to be chatting quite amicably. Harry wondered if he will ever find out what exactly happened in this time. He seemed to have missed his entire life till now.

"I have a special announcement to make," Professor Dumbledore had risen. "As you are all aware, the Minister of Magic is paying us a visit today. He is here on a personal business, but he will be staying here tonight. We have arranged a dinner in his honour. There will be no classes today. Apparition tests however shall be conducted as scheduled."

Ron groaned. "Just my luck!"

"Where's Slughorn?" Muttered Harry, who just noticed the absence of their corpulent potions master. 

"Maybe he's still getting ready to meet the minister." Said Ron, who looked a bit green in the face. 

Harry wished his friends luck as they went out of the castle to take the apparition test. 

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall was coming briskly towards him. "The Minister has arrived and is with Professor Dumbledore now. Make yourself presentable. One of the Professors shall be escorting you there."

Harry nodded as he went towards the common room. The common room seemed deserted. Those not having apparition tests were taking advantage of the unexpected holiday and the fine weather by going outside. Harry wished he could join them. He did not want to meet any minister. But he had no choice.

He changed into his best robes, made certain his tie was straight and came down to the common room again. Lupin was waiting for him. He smiled at him. "Ready, Harry?"

"Remus!" Harry grinned.

"That's Professor Lupin, while you're here," said Sirius rising from an armchair. "Shall we go?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Don't be so nervous," said Sirius. "He's one of the most approachable and humane persons I've ever known. He didn't become the most popular and the longest serving Minister of Magic for nothing."

Harry nodded.

They went out of the portrait hole and through a set of passages Harry was not familiar with.

"Where are we going?" He asked doubtfully. "I thought we were going to Dumbledore's office."

"No, we're going to the Minister's quarters. You don't think the Minister stays at the Three Broomsticks when he comes to Hogwarts, do you?"

"Oh," said Harry. It made sense, now that he thought of it. 

At the top of the next flight of stairs, they were joined by Snape.

"Straighten your tie, Harry," he said.

"It is straight," Harry protested as Snape with a shake of his head proceeded to straighten Harry's tie.

"Leave the kid alone, Severus," Sirius said, sounding amused. "He looks all right to me."

"Lily is going to kill me if he looks anything but his best." Replied Snape, stepping back and looking critically at Harry. "A tough ask, considering that hair."

"Forget the hair," said Sirius, grinning as Snape lifted his wand and flicked it, causing Harry's hair to flatten.

"I'm scared of Lily, I tell you," said Snape. "Have you ever been at the receiving end of her temper?"

Sirius. "Once. I see what you mean. She doesn't lose it very often, but when she does..."

"It is scary." Said Lupin. "I've faced it twice."

"And you're still alive?" Snape grinned at Lupin. "Congratulations."

"Shall we go then?" Asked Sirius.

"His hair looks ridiculous, actually," said Snape as he reversed the spell, leaving Harry's hair as disordered as ever. "After all, the Minister does see James every day, so he must be used to that hair."

Snape gave Harry a thumbs up. "Just relax, Harry. He's only your dad's boss after all. And you've met him informally plenty of times."

Harry had no time to wrap his mind around the fact that Snape seemed to be friends with his parents, with Sirius, with Remus and with him. They had reached the minister's room. 

Sirius knocked and entered the room, followed by Harry and Remus.

"Here he is, sir."

With an encouraging smile at Harry, they both exited. 

Harry stared at the smiling man who stood facing him.

"Hello Harry," the minister for magic smiled at him.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is up and I want to thank all who have supported me. I just hope I haven't disappointed too much. Thank you all!!

"You!" Said Harry.

Riddle lifted both his hands. "I'm quite harmless, I assure you."

He was still smiling and Harry noticed that the smile reached his eyes. His eyes looked completely different from the cold orbs they were before. They looked warm and humorous and smiling.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked finally.

"You and your friends happened, actually." Smiled Riddle. "And I can't really tell you how grateful I am."

"But... but we failed... we couldn't break your mother's curse."

"No, you couldn't. It was a brave plan, but it would never have worked. But it led me to discover the truth, about my future, about the curse that was on me. And then, before you left you went and tried to warn my father."

"He told you?"

"When I went home for the holidays. He was really shaken. I think that might have been the start. I really do not know how it broke, Harry. I can only tell you what it felt like."

The smile was gone now, and there was a bleak expression on Riddle's face.

"Was it awful?" Asked Harry.

"It was like waking up after a long nightmare. And suddenly, you realize that you feel complete, full of life, that you _feel_ ... It was as if the black hole inside you that you never even knew was there was suddenly gone..." he smiled at Harry now, a warm smile. "It was the best feeling, like being born again."

"So, your father broke the spell."

"He did. Only he could have done it, I think. For no one else loved me as selflessly and as unconditionally. No one else loved me as I was, with all my imperfections and what my grandparents called my weirdness."

Harry digested this in silence. "I'm glad it all worked out."

"That's why I wanted to meet you today, of all days. I knew you would be back today. And I knew how confused you would be with all the changes. So, I thought I'd give you a brief outline of the major events that happened in your life."

Harry nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you." He paused. "Is your father still-"

Riddle shook his head. "Muggles don't live as long as wizards. He died a few years back. But he was happy. And it was painless. He died in his sleep." He paused. "He became quite obnoxious and insufferable when I became minister. Of course, he couldn't boast about it to anyone, but still..." he smiled. "My grandfather was alive then. Even he agreed that I wasn't a complete waste of space." He gave Harry a smile that was more of a grimace. "Enough about me. Are you ready to hear about your parents?"

Harry nodded, suddenly eager. “But how do you anything about them?”

“Your father is my Assistant. And he likes to talk. A lot. Especially about his family and friends. I just have to give him an occasional nudge.” Riddle grinned. “Mind you, I’d be completely lost without James. He manages my schedule and my office better than any Assistant I ever had. And I am a frequent visitor to your home. Anyway, I always knew someday I would need to tell you all this since no one else was likely to. So I would have found out somehow."

Harry found himself responding to Riddle’s grin. Looking at the man whom Sirius had described as the most humane person he knew and mentally contrasting him with the teen he knew, Harry could only be happy that they had done what they did. He felt like laughing at his thoughts in the morning. Perhaps, thought he, the most important thing they did was to get Riddle to his father. And for all his superciliousness and snobbery, Tom Riddle had still proved to be a good father and loving enough to break Merope's spell. 

He realized he was smiling and he saw the smile reflected in the eyes of the older man. “I am really grateful, Harry,” Tom Riddle said softly. “To you and to your friends. Thank you.”

Harry nodded. It really was the best feeling.


End file.
